Guerrero: The rise of the MAGA Latino isn’t real, but it could be in 2024
After spending time in Mexico and in Washington, D.C., I was surprised by the fact that all of my friends and acquaintances were white, male, and well traveled. My mother had raised me very differently. She taught me to take care of myself, to be independent, and to see the world outside of my small hometown. It was never enough that my parents were from different countries, but I was fortunate to live and play in a place that truly allowed me to learn from all of them.
Although the idea of my “otherness” at the time was never something that I was concerned with, when I thought about the future I always believed my life would be better if I could live at home. I imagined having my own place, being able to work where I wanted, and having more than being able to share things with my parents. However, by taking the time to realize my “otherness”, I ended up finding out that I was not alone.
As I thought about my new future as a student and eventually as an immigrant, I became interested in how “The Other” community was represented, as Mexican and Central American immigrants. I discovered that many of my classmates from my middle school classes were either members of the dominant American culture, or immigrants to the United States. Some of my most talented friends were white and lived far from where I was born, and some of my most beloved professors were white and never visited my native land. Although to this day, I consider my “otherness” to be my race, gender, sexuality, and my academic background, I still do not feel fully accepted and understood by society.
Growing up, I was surrounded by people who I considered to be friends. We were allowed to share clothes, food, and drinks with each other, and we had a strong bond between us that no one had ever questioned. In the past two years, I was able to break
