What does it mean to be Latina? (And what that means for universities.)

Growing up, my identity was shaped by diverse Latin cultures.

I am Latina.

I was born in Venezuela in the ’80s. I grew up watching telenovelas and listening to salsa, merengue, baladas, and gaitas. Spanish is my first language. Arepas and plantains were an almost daily food staple.

I am White, and I am also not White. My grandma on my mom’s side was Black, my grandpa is Italian. On my dad’s side, both my grandparents were White and blue-eyed, German and Latvian (that’s where “Kibilds” comes from, if you’re wondering). I grew up surrounded by Latinos of all skin tones, so I never thought about my skin as a marker of my Latina-ness.

When I was 10 years old, we moved to Florida. I met Latinos who weren’t immigrants like me and didn’t speak Spanish like me. Most were Puerto Rican and Cuban. But we shared Don Francisco, Walter Mercado, and the Chupacabra, and still the telenovelas and plantains. 

At age 15, we moved to Mexico City. Suddenly my everyday Spanish wasn’t good enough for my IB Literature classes. It wasn’t good enough for every day either. Patilla was now sandia. Pitillo was now popote. Chevere turned to padre, and they sang happy birthday with an entirely different song. These were new Latinos again, with a whole new vocabulary, swapping tortillas for arepas and nopales for plantains. Still, we shared Luis Miguel and Juan Gabriel, and the ever-trusty telenovelas.

As an adult, I’ve never quite belonged.

Fast forward to my adulthood. I moved five more times, each time meeting new Latinos, each time finding ways to relate (usually food and music) and struggling with ways that everyone thought I should relate, but never felt quite right for me (skin color, language, religion, and national pride).

As an adult, I have spent more time avoiding Latin community groups than participating in them. It wasn’t until very recently, as I was working on a project for one of my favorite clients, that I was finally able to put into words why this is. Why I have felt so uncomfortable as an adult when lumped into a category like “Hispanic” and why I’ve struggled so hard to relate when it felt like I was supposed to.

“When you group all Latinos into a single category, you alienate all of us.”

Every Latino/a/e has unique ways to find belonging.

Being Latino/a/e means different things to every single individual. Latinos can find belonging along different facets of their identity. One might find community through shared origin and immigration recency. Another might find community through music and food (like me!). Others still may find belonging through shared religion and rituals. And they are all equally, but distinctly, Latinos.

Make no mistake: When you group/force all Latinos into a single category, you alienate all of us.

Here are some things I’ve heard over the years:

• “I’m ashamed to say I’m Latino, because I don’t speak Spanish.”
• “I was born here, so I feel like I’m not Hispanic enough to join the Hispanic Student Association.”
• “I don’t really want to go back to Colombia. I feel at home here.”
• “I feel so uncomfortable going to Latin parties because I can’t dance.”
• “Taco Tuesday? I’m not Mexican.” (Not to mention most tacos outside of Mexico are not really tacos, but I could write a whole other blog post on the difference between Tex-Mex and Mexican food).

Can you see what these statements have in common? In each case, a Latino/a/e is in a situation where they’re meant to find connection through a facet of being Latino/a/e they can’t relate to.

Don’t treat Latinos as a monolithic group.

Here’s my advice for enrollment marketers and student affairs professionals.

• Never assume affinity from identity. A common error in personalizing messages for Latin students is assuming that they only want to hear about associations and activities for Latin or Hispanic students. They might want that information, but they want to hear about all the other ways they can find community too.
• Don’t assume all Latin families want information in Spanish. If you have the resources, I do recommend you offer the option or add it on to the English materials, but don’t make assumptions about language without asking.
• Representation matters. And I’d argue it’s even more nuanced and important because of how multifaceted this group is. When hiring faculty and staff, think about the different facets of their Latino/a/e identity and about building a truly diverse and multifaceted community. 
• As you create programming on campus, build opportunities for Latinos to connect along different facets of their identity, not just as a single group. Hispanic Student Associations are great, but so are Spanish-speaking groups, Latin music ensembles, religious celebrations, Latin American Studies minors, and so on. Let your students choose what they want to connect with.

The bottom line is this: Create the opportunities, invest in multifaceted representation, build an empathetic and embracing campus culture, and let each individual define what it means for them to be Latino, Latina, or Latine.

I now know how to belong.

Understanding my identity as a Latina is truly liberating. I no longer feel guilty or out of place for not always feeling belonging with other Latinos. Forgiving myself for these differences has been freeing.

Can you imagine how this might make your students feel? To embrace their Latino/a/e identity on their own terms, rather than conforming to others’ expectations, is a profound source of belonging.

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Parting Note: Hispanic, Latinx, and Other Terms

As a Spanish-speaking Latina, I’ve always used the terms “Latina” and “Latino” (not capitalized in Spanish, by the way). However, society evolves faster than language, and neither “Latino” nor “Latina” works for nonbinary people. In the U.S., “Latinx” is often used to be more inclusive, but it’s hard to pronounce, especially in Spanish. Nowadays, in Latin America, people are starting to use words ending in “e” — instead of “o” or “a” — to refer to individuals who are nonbinary. I prefer the term “Latine” (pronounced lah-TEEN-eh) instead of “Latinx” because it feels more like Spanish.

I prefer “Latino/a/e” over “Hispanic” because it’s how we Latinos refer to ourselves. Neither term is wrong; they’re just slightly different. Hispanic refers to a person with ancestry from a country whose primary language is Spanish. Latin refers to a person with origins from anywhere in Latin America. “Hispanic” and “Latino/a/e” are used interchangeably in legal and everyday contexts in the U.S., but if you’re ever in doubt, ask the people you’re referring to what they prefer.