In The Community
This reporting was produced in partnership with the Northeast Valley Health Corporation.
The Latino community is dealing with a mountain of healthcare issues and has been for a long time. Sexual health has been an ongoing issue of concern for the Latino population, especially Latinas, who have historically experienced high incidence rates related to STDs.
The Latino community is the largest community of color in the United States, with 62.1 million people, according to the last 2020 U.S. census. It comes as no surprise that Latinos’ quality of overall health, just like every community, is impacted by social determinants of health. This is the holistic understanding that health is impacted by the environments in which people live, directly affecting their access to health care, green spaces, healthy air and clean water, health and sex education, and quality living conditions.
We can see these disparities in our communities, which are reflected in our health statistics. For example, the study “HIV Susceptibility Among Hispanic Women in South Florida,” published in 2010, found that HIV/AIDS rates were 3.5 times higher for Latinos than for whites. The entire Latino community is at greater risk of contracting STDs, and Latinas are particularly impacted due to a lack of access to healthcare and sexual education, but also because of the stigmas surrounding sexual health.
Latino machista and marianista culture often adds an additional layer of stigma to women’s sexual behavior. One of the best ways to destigmatize sexual health within the Latino community is through education.
Contrary to what is often implied or taught, STDs are not only preventable, but they are also easily cured more often than not. Ignoring the reality of sexual prevention and health won’t make them go away, but taking charge of your sexual life will very likely keep them away.
What Are STDs?
Sexually transmitted diseases (STDs), also known as sexually transmitted infections (STIs), are infections that get passed from one person to another during sex. The terms are used interchangeably, but we’ll stick with “STDs” throughout for the sake of clarity. STDs are usually contracted during unprotected vaginal, anal, or even oral sex.
However, STDs can also be contracted through other kinds of contact involving the mouth, vagina, penis, or anus that doesn’t necessarily involve what one considers the “act of sex.” For example, that’s the case for infections such as herpes or Human Papillomavirus (HPV) because they spread through contact alone, which means any transfer of bodily fluids such as saliva can spread the infection.
It’s also possible to get STDs through sharing needles or blood transfusions. Some STDs can even be passed down to babies during pregnancy, at the moment of birth, or through breastfeeding. In fact, from 2016 to 2020, syphilis passed on to newborns increased by 235%.
The truth is that STDs are common, but they’re preventable. They’re also treatable, especially if caught early, which is where STD testing comes in. This is particularly important for Latinas because they have a much higher risk of contracting STDs. Sexually transmitted diseases are an epidemic in the Latino community, and most of the newly infected are female.
@psblossom What is an STD? 🤔 #sexualhealth #stdawareness #reproductivehealth
Latinas at High Risk for STDs. Why?
One thing about STDs is that not all of them have symptoms. As a result, they often go unnoticed. This is precisely why regular STD testing is such an essential part of practicing sexual health.
Every sexually active person must prioritize regular testing, even if safe sex practices are followed. It’s the best way to protect yourself and your partner or partners against the risk of potential STDs.
The reality for Latinos is that regular STD testing is often easier said than done. Many factors contribute to that and pose obstacles, but there are also ways to overcome these obstacles.
1. Lack of Accessibility to Healthcare
Unfortunately, many Latinos don’t have health insurance. According to the Office of Health Policy, Latinos are less likely than whites to get insurance through their job. In 2022, Statista reported that 21% of the Latino population didn’t have health insurance.
Medicaid expansions have benefited the community, but not all states have adopted them, including Texas, where 40.2% of the population is Latino, and at least 19.4% of them live below the poverty line. But other states, like California, did the opposite and have continuously expanded access to Medicaid. Anyone between the ages of 26 and 65 can access Medicaid regardless of immigration status and receive medical care at community health centers like Northeast Valley Health Corporation.
These community health centers also see patients regardless of income, which is a huge help. Affordability is often an issue, and many Latinos don’t know that their healthcare could be low-cost or even no-cost. Given that too many Latinas who are sexually active are without health insurance, options like these health centers could be easily discoverable with an internet search.
2. Lack of Sexual Health Education
Just as the Latino community lacks access to healthcare services, they also lack access to sexual health education. Primary care doctors play an important role in that education, so having little to no access to them is already a factor. While 95% of participants in the aforementioned survey claimed to have some knowledge about STDs, their sources of information regarding sexual health were often not very reliable, informative, or educational.
Most participants obtained knowledge at school by talking to teachers and other students or through sexual education classes, which were often inadequate. They also received information from their mothers and family members, who often lacked sexual health education in their home countries.
The lack of educational resources leads to sometimes very severe misunderstanding of sexual health among most Latinas. According to a report from the American Academy of Pediatrics, Latino youths are less likely than white youths to get educated about STD prevention or safe sex before becoming sexually active.
@phdfemininehealth Remember to get tested often and use protection (correctly!) 👍🏻 #phdfemininehealth #safesex #healthtips #doctortips #gynecology
3. Stigma Around STDs
The stigma around STDs runs deep in society, so it affects every community. However, the Latino community is disproportionately affected for other reasons discussed above. The same survey we’ve been discussing showed that fear of what people may think is another factor that keeps Latinas from getting tested. The stigma is often tied to a lack of education about STDs, the terminology used around them, and common misconceptions. It’s also often linked to religious beliefs, politics, and family dynamics.
@beyondmedcares Your status does not define you & it does not mean you’re dirty. Getting an #std is a expected risk if having #sex ! #stdawareness #stdcheck #knowyourstatus #sexualhealth #gettested #stiawareness #herpes #herpesadvocate #safesex #menshealth #womenshealth
For example, a lot of people don’t know that STDs are treatable and that most require very simple treatment, especially if they’re diagnosed early. When it comes to misconceptions, a lot of people believe promiscuity is the main factor. In truth, it only takes one sexual partner.
Marital status or being in a committed monogamous relationship also has nothing to do with it. Discovering an STD doesn’t necessarily mean someone cheated in the relationship. This could be due to a long-standing infection that was never diagnosed or was symptom-free.
It’s also possible for an STD treatment to fail, erasing the symptoms but not the infection itself. The point is that whether single, married, or in a committed relationship, regular STD testing should be part of maintaining good sexual health. Getting tested while married or in a relationship is just a part of proper health care.
The stigma around STDs is also tightly linked to the language. People who contract them are labeled as “dirty,” and people who don’t are considered “clean.” Not to mention the jokes people often make about “damaged goods” and other shaming insinuations.
If you’re feeling empowered about it, talk about safe sex, prevention, and testing in everyday regular conversations because it is, indeed, very normal. But if not, it’s helpful to know that getting access to preventative support like condoms and PrEP or STD testing and treatment is often a private click away.
Community health centers, like Northeast Valley Health Corporation, often allow easy scheduling right from the privacy of your computer or mobile screen. For example, Los Angeles County residents can easily make an appointment online, and no one has to know about it.
@selfmagazine Stop immediately if the condom breaks! #SexualHealth #CondomTips #HealthTok #LearnOnTikTok #TikTokPartner
Latinas Can Take Charge of Their Health
While STDs affect individuals regardless of ethnicity or background, Latinas bear a disproportionate burden.
From HIV to chlamydia, gonorrhea, and syphilis, STDs present a significant public health challenge made worse by the silent nature of many infections, the lack of accessible testing and treatment options, the stigma and shame, and the misunderstanding of sexual health.
However, it's important to note that STDs can be prevented and treated and that Latinas have the power to change the conversation around STDs in the Latino community. More and more research shows that Latinas are known influencers for their family, friends, and community. They can take charge and spread awareness about STDs, prioritize sexual health, as well as share information on resources like free STD testing.
This article is part of a series developed in partnership with Project Pulso.
Latino history is vital to the American narrative - there is no America without Latino contributions. Despite this, Latino storytelling and history are increasingly being sidelined in educational institutions. The issue deepens when we look at the emerging trend of book banning.
What is the Modern Book Ban?
Book banning is the act of removing books from reading lists, libraries, or bookstores based on content disagreements. Often done with the pretense of safeguarding children, the majority of these challenges come from parents and library patrons. However, elected officials, school boards, and even librarians can also be champions of imposed ignorance - after all, they know knowledge is power.
Recently, the ALA reported an "unprecedented volume" of book challenges. This is alarming for multiple reasons:
- Censorship: Book banning is fundamentally a form of censorship. Although the First Amendment protects against government censorship, private individuals or organizations face limited restraint. This makes book banning a primary example of legal censorship in the U.S.
- Democracy at Risk: At the core of democracy is the free exchange of ideas. By constraining this, we challenge the principles on which the U.S. was built. Censorship often paves the way to tyranny, allowing a small group to dominate the narrative.
- Stagnation: Book bans impede societal progression by avoiding challenges to prevailing beliefs. To quote English writer George Orwell from his eerily prescient dystopian novel “1984”: “The best books are those that tell you what you know already.” Do we aspire to a society that shuns diverse thought? Book bans lead fully in that direction.
Latino Representation: The Understated Crisis
Despite making up a significant portion of the K-12 public school population, Latino students are presented with textbooks that overlook or barely touch upon key topics in Latino history. Out of the books published for young readers, only 5% concern or are authored by Latinos. This void extends beyond just fictional narratives.
Recent bans in states like Texas and Florida are erasing the already sparse representation Latinos have. Essential books reflecting Latino experiences, such as My Name is María Isabel, are disappearing from shelves. Project Pulso underlines this issue in their post:
Even beyond Latino literature, there's a broader attack against critical theory. This crusade aims to stifle discussions on racism, sexism, and systemic inequality. In a single year, 2,539 books faced bans, according to PEN America. A startling number of these pertained to LGBTQ themes, protagonists of color, race, and racism.
A Spotlight on Banned Latina Authors
Amidst the unsettling rise in book bans across the U.S., Latina authors have found themselves at the epicenter of this censorship storm. These authors not only highlight the complexities of Latino heritage but also bridge gaps in understanding, weaving tales that resonate across boundaries. Many invaluable works by Latina authors have been banned, including:
- “The House of the Spirits” by Isabel Allende: Spanning generations, this saga chronicles the lives of the Trueba family in Chile, accentuating the mystical powers of its female characters. Challenges against it cite reasons like its "pornographic" nature and alleged attacks on Catholicism.
- “The House on Mango Street” by Sandra Cisneros: Through vignettes, this novel paints the life of Esperanza Cordero, a young Chicana in Chicago. Bans have been enforced based on claims that it instigates skepticism against "American values."
- “Out of Darkness” by Ashley Hope Pérez: Set against the backdrop of 1930s Texas, this novel delves into the love between a Mexican American girl and a Black teen. Challenged for its graphic nature, it's deemed "sexually explicit" and has earned a place on the Top 10 Most Banned Books list.
- “The Poet X” by Elizabeth Acevedo: The narrative revolves around 15-year-old Xiomara, who channels familial tension into her poetry. Accusations against it range from being "anti-Christian" to violating religious safeguards.
- “How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents” by Julia Alvarez: This novel charts the journey of the Garcia sisters, uprooted from their Dominican heritage, as they grapple with a starkly contrasting life in New York, touching on themes of identity, family, and culture.
- “Like Water for Chocolate” by Laura Esquivel: This enchanting novel narrates the intriguing history of the De La Garza family in Mexico, where love, tradition, and magic blend seamlessly. It delves deep into themes of forbidden love, family obligations, and the transformative power of food.
- “Bless Me, Ultima” by Rudolf Anaya: Set in New Mexico; this narrative introduces us to Antonio Marez and Ultima, a healer. As Antonio steps into manhood, Ultima becomes his guiding light, illuminating his path through childhood bigotry, familial crises, and the mysteries of spirituality.
The increasing trend of book banning, especially of Latino literature, is a pressing concern. Not only does it threaten our democratic principles and societal growth, but it also amplifies the marginalization of already underrepresented communities. Our society's richness lies in its diversity, and by stifling these voices, we risk losing an integral part of our narrative. It's time to reassess and recognize the value of all stories, regardless of their origin.
As a kid, one of my favorite films involved Mexicans who counted. That movie, Stand and Deliver, was inspired by the real-life story of Jaime Escalante, a Bolivian immigrant who became a celebrated calculus teacher in East Los Angeles. The film rightly brought out the fangirl in me.
Many of Escalante’s students were stubborn Chicanos and I related; I was a Chicana and I hated algebra; history was my jam. The movie also featured Latine nerds, an archetype that was familiar but that I hadn’t seen on the big screen. Lastly, Escalante reminded me of my mom, Beatriz, a Mexican immigrant who taught public school in California.
As an adult, I now recognize the movie’s pernicious flaws.
Stereotypes are central to the plot of Stand and Deliver and while its ethnic caricatures are hard to miss – the cholo who feels pressured to hide his book smarts versus the cholo who refuses to learn – I didn’t understand how one of the movie’s primary stereotypes distorted my understanding of the teaching profession until I set foot in a classroom to instruct. Films like Stand and Deliver hurt educators by representing us as engaged in a morbidly transactional profession. In exchange for sacrificing our mental and physical health, we achieve hero status.
Martyrdom underwrites our goodness.
As the coronavirus continues to take lives, the lives of teachers and school staff included, the good-educator-as-unflinching-martyr trope is being used to shame those of us who express concerns about IRL instruction. Last month, New York Times’ columnist David Brooks penned a screed that all but accused educators critical of their working conditions of laziness, stupidity, and cowardice.
Brooks seems to prefer stoic teachers ready to become ill and die and I imagine the columnist watching Stand and Deliver, nodding in approval at a scene set during a night school session. Escalante, who has taken on a second job as an English instructor, shuffles about a classroom, clutching at his chest while he leads adult students through a set of language drills. The students seem unaware of their teacher’s distress and Escalante excuses himself. Once he’s out of their sight, he loses his composure. He sweats and pants, wheezing as he struggles to make his way down a desolate flight of stairs. Crumpling to the floor, Escalante presses his face against the seemingly cold cement as he experiences a heart attack.
(I imagine Brooks leaping to his feet to give a standing ovation! “That’s the spirit!” he screams.)
Several scenes later, Escalante convalesce in a hospital bed. His teenage son tells him, “Dad, the doctor says no stress. No job-related activity for at least a month.”
Escalante quips, “I want another doctor.”
The teacher urges his family to go home, and after they leave, he produces a pamphlet and a pen. He scribbles calculus notes and gives them to a nurse who smuggles the mathematical contraband to his students.
This plot point begs a question: If a heart attack is an unacceptable reason for a teacher to rest, what constitutes a justifiable reason?
Decapitation?
Not if the instructor who’s lost her head teaches home economics: Let her thread a needle!
Too many Americans hold teachers to the grotesque standards set by films that portray us as modern saints. I once evaluated myself according to such moral benchmarks and the first week that I taught ninth grade, I held myself to them. I developed a sore throat that I hoped could be cured by ignoring it. The pain overwhelmed me and speaking became torture. A student stared at me as I struggled to remain upright.
“Ms. Gurba,” she said, “you don’t look…good.”
“I’m fine,” I coughed. I taught the rest of the day while seated.
After school, I went to a clinic where I discovered I had strep throat and while I understood that I was infectious, I also understood that if I used sick days to recuperate, it was likely that parents, fellow faculty, administrators and even students might think me selfish. It’s not only the perfect attendance of students that’s celebrated. Teachers who come to work in spite of illness are often celebrated as well. They’re lauded for their selflessness. That’s what people have been conditioned to expect of teachers. No selfhood. Just selfless vibes.
I permitted myself one day off and agonized about it the entire time that I watched Jerry Springer.
In November of last year, CNN reported on a teacher who conducted elementary school lessons from her hospital bed following surgery. I found CNN’s fetishization of her convalescence cringeworthy but the news outlet, desperate to canonize her, placed her story in a section of its website titled “the Good Stuff.” The Good Stuff offers “headlines that make you smile” and its report on Stephany Hume characterized her as “inspiring,” “the type of teacher we all wished we’d had in elementary school.” Apparently, an ideal teacher is one whose identity is defined by unrelenting sacrifice: “…when the English language arts teacher of 20 years went to the hospital for an unexpected hernia surgery, she still made sure to read to her students at Sewell Elementary from her hospital bed — gown and all.”
Teachers are never not supposed to be giving.
We are supposed to give ourselves away until nothing remains.
Celebrating cases like Hume’s sets an absurd standard for teacher behavior, one that requires saintliness. This standard exists because, like nursing, teaching is a feminized profession with moral expectations dictated by fucked up gender norms. Since the beginning of the twentieth century, the education of children has been treated as an “inherently ‘feminine’ pursuit” and data shows that the profession has grown increasingly gender segregated. 77 percent of public school teachers in the United States are women, with the “the average teacher [being] a 43-year-old white woman.”
The logic of misogyny drives the urgency with which assholes like Brooks call for teachers to return to IRL instruction. Because teachers are feminized, we’re expected to be unconcerned with our own well-being and wholly consumed with the well-being of strangers’ kids. This conceptualization falls within a framework theorized by philosopher Kate Manne, one that she terms the “human being/giver distinction.” According to this distinction, women function as givers and must conform to a set of obligations that are fundamentally economic. We must offer love, attention, affection and admiration as well as caregiving labor without the expectation of any of these moral goods or services in return. Here I will stress that the allocation of these moral goods and services is synonymous with the teaching profession.
I enjoy teaching but it’s not a religious vocation.
It’s a job, one that has become increasingly difficult to perform during the pandemic, with 77 percent of teachers reporting an increased work load compared with last year. Thanking us for our labor isn’t just unnecessary: it’s condescending. We work because we must, because under racial capitalism, we have been disciplined to the wage and racial capitalism that will punish us if we dare to critique the prevailing set of economic relations. The highest expression of gratitude to educators isn’t a litany of platitudes. Most of us would prefer to work in safe environments where our health is prioritized. In order to give that to teachers, Americans will have to relinquish their fetishization of us as selfless givers.
