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indomitable-ace-of-hearts · 2 months ago

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"Latinos are Not Ok"

So I saw this on my LinkedIn today and thought it was timely and relevant for anyone who may be leading a team or even those who are wondering how to support the Latino community in the workplace, even if you cannot directly relate to what is being felt by many or may not fully understand the "why".

Even if many others in my community don't say it out loud, the hurt and fear is there.

Talking to my therapist this morning, we talked about the ripple effects being felt across the board from people on all sides as many find themselves at a cross-roads, trying to navigate very complex emotions and faced with the idea of re-evaluating current individual vs societal differences in what is defined as civically just and morally right. Long standing traditions vs modern day expectations. Differences in generational experiences.

The impact is more than what some people might realize because we don't always notice it until it hits us personally. (For some people it's like they need to be hit - sometimes really, really hard - with FAFO truck before it actually clicks and others they need to be slowly walked through it.)

And even then many may not connect the dots on the root cause because we're faced with responding to a given situation with whatever tools we have and have no choice but to react to what is happening "now" vs thinking about tomorrow.

This all creates a loop (or even stacks onto) traumas - which in and of itself is already very hard to get out of without a place of safety in which to process, grieve, and even to survive.

That's why as team leaders and managers, it's always important to remember that we work with real people and there are ways to support others from a dignified place, will being conscious of our own personal experiences.

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Original Post by Ruby Garcia: https://www.linkedin.com/posts/rubygarcia_your-latino-team-members-are-not-okay-activity-7348694544537862145-HX9T?utm_source=share&utm_medium=member_desktop&rcm=ACoAAAHuiCEBiF0JECru2GF1kScQIUJVJYgkk24

"Your Latino team members are not okay.

They may not be saying much, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t carrying an emotional burden right now.

To put it into perspective, 30 million Latino workers, represent about 18% of all employed Americans.

Here are 10 ways you can support your Latin@ employees

1. Don’t Assume Silence Means Safety

Encourage optional forums, small group listening sessions or facilitated discussions, where employees can share or simply be together without pressure to speak. Partner with trusted facilitators who are trauma-informed and culturally competent.

2. Center Employee Resource Groups (ERGs) as Leadership Partners

Latinx, immigrant, and other affinity ERGs should be resourced and empowered, not just seen as extracurriculars. Invite ERG leaders into decision-making spaces and offer them additional support (budget, stipends, time) to care for their communities.

3. Normalize Flexibility Without Penalty

Allow team members to work remotely, shift hours, or step back temporarily without guilt or career risk. Make sure managers are explicitly told to expect and support this, not just allow it grudgingly.

4. Provide Trauma-Informed Manager Training

Give your people leaders tools to recognize signs of stress and dysregulation, and how to respond with empathy. A 30-minute training or resource guide on trauma-informed leadership can go a long way.

5. Signal Psychological Safety in Communications

When sending organizational emails or giving team updates, include lines like:

“We know some of you are navigating difficult realities right now. Please take what you need. Your wellbeing matters.” Simple language can shift the tone from performative to human-centered.

6. Audit Your Policies for Equity Under Stress

Review attendance, productivity, and performance policies through an equity lens. Ask: Do our policies punish people for being human under pressure? Adjust where needed, especially for frontline or hourly workers.

7. Offer Community-Based Mental Health Support

In addition to traditional EAPs, consider partnerships with community mental health orgs that specialize in supporting Latinx and immigrant communities. Representation matters when people are processing trauma.

8. Practice Public Allyship

Don't just say "we support our employees". SHOW IT. Issue a statement, make a donation, attend a protest, lobby for humane policies, or allow civic time off. Your internal commitments should be reflected externally.

9. Protect Time for Connection

Host drop-in wellness hours, journaling sessions, or even quiet rooms. Schedule “meeting-free” days. Create rituals of care that acknowledge the moment and invite restoration.

10. Show Up Yourself

Vulnerability from leaders matters. You don’t have to have all the answers. But you do have to be willing to say, “I see you. I care. I’m learning how to do better.” Do the internal work and educate yourself."

Last but not least (pulled from a commenter):

"Make it clear that your Latino employees will not face retaliation for protesting or practicing self advocacy."

Why am I sharing this?

Because as a member of the Latin@ community this is coming at time I am seeing many people I am connected with struggling and asking for help.

I cannot speak to the support needs of other minority groups, but do acknowledge that as a community, what impacts one group can (and usually) does affect another even if we may not have visibility into from the outside or understand how it could as we tend to hyper-fixate on what we know and are most familiar with.

I would even say this crisis management structure can be adapted to other cases of a large population of people who being affected by a major economic and social issue.

Unfortunately not everyone has the resources or privilege to talk to a licensed therapist to help with processing things that is culturally traumatic and/or reopening generational PTSD as they happen. And hearing stories shared by people I know, seeing the anger, and knowing the real fear being faced by those I am connected to is...emotionally rough. And I acknowledge my own limitations as a human being - I can't be there for everyone in the way they may need or want it.

What I do know is support from the lens of community goes a long way of giving a sense of comfort in times of uncertainty - especially right now to those within our Latino community who are directly experiencing the most impact regardless of their personal situations or reasons.

I don't have to think like you, agree with you, experienced what you've experienced, or live my life the way you choose to live yours to treat you with a level of dignity that should be afforded to all living beings. Hell, I don't even have to like you. I hope that this wave stops sooner rather than later.

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indomitable-ace-of-hearts · 3 months ago

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This past week I’ve been distracted. Overwhelmed. Distressed. Worried. Anxious. Angry.

And Friday I was trying hard not to have those emotions be my fuel during what was to be our last sparring practice before our big State tournament.

To stay calm. Breathe. Be present.

It was a bigger challenge than I thought it would be.

Each round I could feel frustration mounting. Especially as nothing was landing. I couldn't get into a rhythm. And kept getting hit in a way that made me angrier by the second. But I held back. Trying to maintain control. To focus and not let the anger spill over. Then, somewhere near the end of round three, I lost focus and a foot slammed my ring finger.

I felt the pain and told myself to suck it up. Push through. But halfway through the round I knew between my frustration and the pain I wasn't in the mental state to put up a good fight.

And forced myself to admit defeat.

To accept the reminder of what happens when you allow frustration, anger, and fear to distract you.

You get hurt more than the person you are in opposition with - especially if they are prepared...

...I have been spending a lot of time listening to reports, reading articles, sorting through news from multiple outlets, trying to get a really good picture on what has been happening.

To sort through what is propaganda and what is factual.

And it’s been hard.

Hard because you don't know who to trust anymore for honest journalism.

Hard because you know that any opinion you share now risks alienating people you truly care about while putting self and others at risk of being treated as something less than. As people continue to struggle with listening to views in opposition of their own. Auto-rejecting because the narratives are painful, sting, or make them question everything they knew about life. I get it.

Hard because everything I’ve been reading and seeing and hearing goes against my own moral principles and philosophy. Against what I had been taught was just and right. And yet, only reinforces the experiences I have have had being raised a second generation, US-born Puerto Rican. And it would be so easy to believe that I have nothing to be worried about. I am a U.S. born citizen.

As is my father, who was born in New York where Abuelo Miguel and Abuela Lola met--both of whom were part of the Puerto Rican diaspora who moved to New York in search for better opportunities as factory workers. Only to find themselves moving back to Ponce after a bullet from outside flew through the wall and killed my dad's baby brother in his crib. Something they never really recovered from as a family.

My mother is a statutory U.S. Citizen born and raised in the then more isolated mountains of Orocovis, PR. Who, after graduating from UPR, moved in temporarily with my aunt who's then husband was station in one of the Southwest states.

My parents met in the US and the rest is the start of my own American-born history.

But while my identity as a kid was purely as a forever military brat and cradle Catholic, there was always this layer of "Us" vs "Them". I was American, educated on American grounds, in an American school - and yet my mother tried very hard to ensure we knew we were not "American" in the cultural sense.

To her, "American" kids were too "free" to do what they wanted. They had a lot more rights and privileges. To act like them was to reject where I came from. But even so, by late elementary school I couldn't understand. I wasn't born in Puerto Rico. I was a heritage speaker so I couldn't read Spanish well much less speak it. Outside my skin color, you couldn't even tell I spoke Spanish unless I tried.

And as my cousin's would remind me back then - I sounded "American" when I did.

But growing up overseas, I was proud to be an American.

The American flag was everywhere. We were always excited to watch the military base parades, and I was surrounded by soldiers and spouses, many who became extended uncles and aunts.

I was the proud daughter of a soldier and in my world, we were all united in our Patriotism even as we (kids) argued over which branch was the best.

The on base church was our second home, the priests - our dinner guests, and every day we were surrounded by people from all over the world coming together to talk about charity and how to live a good life in Christ.

And when parents stationed at our base had to go on tours, all the spouses would get together to pray and do food potlucks as a way to support each other while the soldiers were away. We ate all kinds of food, too. Learned how to make lumpias, put together tamales, and even native alaskan foods. This. This was the melting of cultures that made America so great.

But, when I moved from Germany to Florida after my dad's retirement, it was a different world.

I was lost, confused. Church catechism classes were lead by a large seemingly always-angry white man who railed against modern vices as we learned about the rite of confirmation.

Spanish language catechisms were criticized, and later shut down as unnecessary. "They can learn English," they would said when my mother tried to fight for the ability of immigant children to learn and follow Catholic teachings as their parents worked and adapted to life in the US.

Youth group was run by white, born-again Christians who judged us for asking questions that didn't follow their theology to the letter.

It didn't matter that we were still young and curious and had a different perspective.

And in school, instead of being celebrated and asking how to say something silly, speaking another language became an invite to bullying and jokes about your heritage.

I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere.

But the bullies knew.

With skin that darkens in the sun, in the end I belonged with the Latino kids.

Welcome to life in Southwest Florida.

This was America.

This experience forever shattered my views of what it meant to be an American. And why I became so involved in my college years in heritage groups like the Hispanic American Student Association, the Filipino Student Association. I led a Future Minority Leaders club.

And became heavily involved as a volunteer at the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce of Metro Orlando. This all led me to join a Latina-based Sorority, and even there, I eventually took on the role of Regional Director for many years.

Because all of these experiences had taught me a very long time ago that mainland America didn't care about me as a Latina.

My friends did.

The community I built and continue to build around me do.

But America? It didn't care.

I may not be an immigrant and lived the immigrant experience. But I grew up around immigrants and my life has been richer for it. Mr. Jerry Stipek and his wife were immigrants from the Czech Republic. There, he was a musician, but when he moved to the US - he had stopped writing scores.

When my mother found out and told him my siblings and I were in music - we became his muses. He played the organ during the English Mass, and soon we became a family quartet. My sister on the violin. My brothers as alto and soprano (because my youngest brother was still little). Myself on the flute.

I felt like a paraded peacock but my mother believed in us using our talents for the community. It was a community that rejected us in one way, but when it came to something universal - like music - we were welcome. But even then, it always felt like it was from a distance.

Just this past December, after years of effort my own Sister-in-Law became a U.S. Citizen. It was scary, as my brother had to join her on a trip to Mexico for the final leg. This after having to take matters into his own hands and switching lawyers due to careless handling of her case.

We didn't know what the outcome would be. We were on standby, just in case. And there is a relief knowing that she was approved.

During that time, another family friend who immigrated from Central America also came to visit my mother. They had good news to share themselves. They were approved for citizenship.

Seeing what’s happening now - I am reminded of these experiences. And it hurts me to see bullying and hate rewarded and applauded to this magnitude.

To hear of raids in Churchs, elementary schools, university dorms, and court hearings.

And not just Latinos. Those in the APAC community as well are being affected.

Places where people are trying to learn, work, and contribute.

To hear of legally approved visas suddenly being rescinded and renewals rejected. With agents immediately going to round them up for deportation as if they did something wrong.

When they were following the system. Believed in the system.

Were doing the right thing.

To hear immigrants who are being intentionally blocked from critical court hearings. To the point a CATHOLIC BISHOP has made a call to action for other people of faith to walk alongside them and keep them safe.

To hear that racial profiling is rule of ICE Law, and anyone speaking Spanish runs risk of being stopped, searched, and immediately deported. Regardless of citizenship status.

You just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. And you happen to have the wrong skin color.

To have a President in power who encourages and is happy this is happening. And unhappy it isn't going faster. Isn't bigger, but then reverses course only when white-owned construction and farming businesses start crying shame as they lose their low-wage workers.

This is not about borders, or criminals. It never was.

It's the same playbook I've seen at work. In school. And yes - even in American-led churches.

This is why I stand with Immigrants. Because I believe in the version of America I saw in my youth when I lived overseas and on the military bases. I believe in the right-side of history - the one that people have not learned because it was inconvenient and erased. To not repeat the mistakes of the past and learn from it.

To dismantle the systems put in place by people who care for profit over human life.

I believe in the rights and freedoms I was promised as an American citizen in the U.S. Constitution.

And the rights of everyone who touches the soil on this land. A land that has wept Native and Immigrant blood for over thousand years.

A Nation built off the backbone of immigrants from all over the world looking for asylum, peace, prosperity, and a life ruled by law and not a religious state.

The rights of Due Process.

Of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. To not live in fear that rights are being slowly stripped away because of things beyond our control - like how and where we was born.

I was lucky that I was born in an era after the Jones Act and to Puerto Rican parents. My friends, co-workers, and those seeking asylum for various causes were not. And so I believe as the Pope and all humanitarians believe.

That we all have a right to be treated with dignity and respect no matter their circumstances or background. I am not here on this Earth to be judge and jury to no other man except myself. Only to serve and be of service to others so that we can all enjoy what makes life beautiful.

I hate the version of America playing out right before my eyes and am praying that we can reverse course before it's really too late.

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