Blog

<h3><strong>A Balancing Act That Never Ends</strong></h3><p><strong>From my personal vantage point, and resonating with countless stories from my community, being a first-generation Mexican immigrant feels like continuously balancing on a fine line. On one path lies the cultural foundation our parents instilled in us, deeply rooted in communal values and family bonds. The other path leads to a society that measures worth by personal achievements.</strong></p><h3><strong>The Intangible Burden of Familial Commitment</strong></h3><p><strong>In our families, bonds run deep. We are innately connected, often feeling the weight and joy of each other's journeys as if they were our own. Our parents, with their boundless love, extend time, affection, and financial support, sometimes even sacrificing their own personal boundaries. However, such depth of connection, while heartening, can sometimes lead to feelings of being overwhelmed and heightened anxiety.</strong></p><h3><strong>Cultural Expectations' Toll</strong></h3><p><strong>The guilt that sets in when asserting one's individuality in a culture that places community above all can be overwhelming. Saying 'no' feels like a betrayal in an environment where individualism is seen as selfish. If our parents are willing to take on all our problems, how can we not do the same for them?</strong></p><h3><strong>Living Between Norms</strong></h3><p><strong>Modern society often carries an underlying expectation: once you reach adulthood, typically marked by turning 18, you're encouraged to assert your independence. While living with family into adulthood has become more common due to various economic and societal factors, subtle stigmas still persist. Contributing to the household or frequently seeking parental guidance might, in some circles, be misconstrued as over-reliance or reluctance to fully embrace adulthood. Yet, in our communal culture, these actions are viewed as symbols of respect, responsibility, and unity. The goal is not just personal growth but collective elevation, ensuring no one is left to bear the burden alone.</strong></p><h3><strong>The Responsibility We Didn't Ask For</strong></h3><p><strong>It's essential to understand that our parents' migration was driven not just by dreams for us, but also by their personal aspirations and desires. While we often carry the emotional burden as though their entire journey was a sacrifice for our sake, in reality, their dreams and ours are closely linked. This emotional responsibility is intensified by a society still learning to fully embrace us, leading to deep-seated anxieties.</strong></p><h3><strong>The Cultural Tug-of-War</strong></h3><p><strong>The constant push-and-pull between our community-centric upbringing and a society that places a premium on personal achievements presents emotional challenges: love, resentment, freedom, obligation, and divided loyalties. We're navigating not just external expectations but also a maze of conflicting internal feelings.</strong></p><h3><strong>Embracing Our Complexity</strong></h3><p><strong>Choosing your family isn't an act of betrayal against yourself. In an individualistic society that often stigmatizes communal living, it's easy to feel like we are falling behind for not constantly putting 'me' first. Yet, embracing family can also signify profound self-awareness, recognizing that our family is intrinsically linked to our identity. By making that choice, we evolve, understanding that family and self are not mutually exclusive but beautifully intertwined.</strong></p><p><strong>Our parents didn't leave their homeland solely for brighter prospects for us but also for their own aspirations. By candidly addressing these intricate emotions, we pay homage to their sacrifices and chart a path of fulfillment. This journey fosters an emotional environment where both personal dreams and community bonds flourish—each step a testament to our resilience and adaptability.</strong></p>

First-Gen Struggle Between Communal Ties and American Individualism

<p><strong>**Trigger Warning: This blog post discusses experiences of racial discrimination and includes a mention of a violent threat.**&nbsp;</strong><span data-contrast="auto">&nbsp;</span><span data-ccp-props="{&quot;201341983&quot;:0,&quot;335559739&quot;:160,&quot;335559740&quot;:259}">&nbsp;</span></p><h3><span data-contrast="auto">The Setting </span><span data-ccp-props="{&quot;201341983&quot;:0,&quot;335559739&quot;:160,&quot;335559740&quot;:259}">&nbsp;</span></h3><p><strong>Imagine walking into a classroom where you're one of the few, if not the only, person who looks like you. That was me, a 12-year-old in a predominantly white middle school, one of the few Latinos in my grade.</strong></p><h3><span data-contrast="auto">The Moment </span><span data-ccp-props="{&quot;201341983&quot;:0,&quot;335559739&quot;:160,&quot;335559740&quot;:259}">&nbsp;</span></h3><p><strong>That fateful day in seventh grade was a turning point for me. A boy in my class, who frequently talked about hunting with his dad, locked eyes with me and bluntly inquired, "Are you an illegal?" His tone was harsh, not curious. I answered with a firm "No," to which he chillingly replied, "Good, because if you were, I'd shoot you." His words cut through me, stripping away layers of my identity and humanity. It was at this point that I felt utterly dehumanized, my sense of shame and fear so overpowering that I couldn't bring myself to even look at the teacher.</strong></p><h3><span data-contrast="auto">Realization </span><span data-ccp-props="{&quot;201341983&quot;:0,&quot;335559739&quot;:160,&quot;335559740&quot;:259}">&nbsp;</span></h3><p><strong>It wasn't until much later that I fully grasped the impact of that moment. Back then, I felt a hazy sense of exclusion and dehumanization but couldn't quite put it into words. His question, followed by that menacing statement, were no mere comments. They were a deliberate attack on my human dignity and right to belong. This set the stage for the many years to come where I carried this interaction within me.</strong></p><h3><span data-ccp-props="{&quot;201341983&quot;:0,&quot;335559739&quot;:160,&quot;335559740&quot;:259}">Burden of Keeping Quiet&nbsp;</span></h3><p><strong>So, I chose silence, burying the pain deep within. Speaking about it felt like giving his words power over me, solidifying them as a defining aspect of my identity.</strong></p><h3 aria-level="2"><strong><span data-contrast="none">Unspoken Fear</span></strong><span data-ccp-props="{&quot;134245418&quot;:true,&quot;134245529&quot;:true,&quot;201341983&quot;:0,&quot;335559738&quot;:40,&quot;335559739&quot;:0,&quot;335559740&quot;:259}">&nbsp;</span></h3><p><strong>The cruelty of his words echoed far beyond that classroom. They compelled me to guard my undocumented status more fiercely, not just out of fear of deportation, but from the unsettling realization that others might harbor the same violent intentions toward me and my family.</strong></p><h3><span data-contrast="auto">A Change in Tide </span><span data-ccp-props="{&quot;201341983&quot;:0,&quot;335559739&quot;:160,&quot;335559740&quot;:259}">&nbsp;</span></h3><p><strong>High school marked a new chapter for me with YMCA Latino Achievers. Here, I met others who could relate to my experience, my culture, my family. It was a space where I was seen for who I am, not reduced to a label. For the first time, I felt the warmth of being truly understood and accepted. While high school offered a respite, I would soon find that the professional world carried its own set of challenges.</strong></p><h3><span data-contrast="auto">A Continuation of Struggle </span><span data-ccp-props="{&quot;201341983&quot;:0,&quot;335559739&quot;:160,&quot;335559740&quot;:259}">&nbsp;</span></h3><p><strong>Being a hostess was just one chapter. Here, too, servers grumbled when minorities were seated in their section. Managers casually nicknamed any Latino as "Juan," even after being told such nicknames were inappropriate.</strong></p><h3>Why We Must Speak &nbsp;</h3><p><strong>Often, stories of being marginalized remain locked in our hearts, unspoken and overshadowed by a society that turns a blind eye. For those of us who can, we should speak up. It's not just about airing our grievances but about educating one another, affirming our worth, and encouraging each other to stand tall. In hindsight, I realize that I could have done more than just confront individuals, especially now that I am an HR professional.</strong></p><h3><span data-contrast="auto">Quest for Belonging and Self-Worth </span></h3><p><strong>It's a journey that needs all of us, supporting each other to create an environment of mutual respect and understanding. Being documented does unlock certain doors, but the absence of that piece of paper shouldn't label us as less than human. We all have the right to walk this earth with dignity, to be treated with respect, and to feel a sense of belonging—not because a document validates our existence, but because our humanity alone makes us worthy.</strong></p><h3><span data-contrast="none">Your Call to Action</span>&nbsp;</h3><p><strong>If you can share your story without compromising your well-being, please consider adding your voice to the chorus of narratives that need to be heard. You can connect with me at <a href="mailto:vozandvalor@gmail.com" target="_new" data-mce-href="mailto:vozandvalor@gmail.com">vozandvalor@gmail.com</a>. Your account can be another brick in the foundation of a community built on understanding and mutual respect, free from the shackles of labels.</strong></p><p><strong>Let's unite to enact the change we yearn for, forging spaces where everyone's inherent worth is acknowledged and cherished.</strong></p><p><span data-ccp-props="{&quot;201341983&quot;:0,&quot;335559739&quot;:160,&quot;335559740&quot;:259}">&nbsp;</span></p><p><span data-ccp-props="{&quot;201341983&quot;:0,&quot;335559739&quot;:160,&quot;335559740&quot;:259}">&nbsp;</span></p><p><span data-contrast="auto">&nbsp;</span><span data-ccp-props="{&quot;201341983&quot;:0,&quot;335559739&quot;:160,&quot;335559740&quot;:259}">&nbsp;</span></p>

The Unseen Scars of Growing Up Undocumented

Gray diary book on blue wooden background

<h3><strong>Our Strategic Imperative in the Workplace</strong></h3><p><strong>Let's dispense with a tired idea: Our presence in a company isn’t an act of corporate altruism. We are not merely checkmarks on a diversity report. Rather, our inclusion is a strategic imperative for organizations eager to remain agile, inventive, and connected to broad audiences. But our value extends beyond mere tokenism—it’s an inherent part of who we are and the experiences we bring.</strong></p><h3>The Ownership Mentality Is a Unique Asset in a World of Conformity</h3><p><strong>Being the first in our families to enter new domains has instilled in us what I call an 'ownership mentality.' Unlike a mere sense of responsibility, this mentality compels us to care deeply about the impact of our work, to foresee challenges, and to invest in long-term solutions. It's a blend of leadership and personal investment that is hard to come by, making us not just employees but valuable stakeholders. Employers are increasingly recognizing that this trait is not only desirable but necessary for the vitality of their organizations.</strong></p><h3>The Undercurrents of Microaggressions</h3><p><strong>As we navigate our roles, microaggressions can function like invisible obstacles. These are often comments that undermine us, creating an environment where we feel like perpetual outsiders. Examples include dismissive remarks about our contributions, exclusion from key discussions, and invasive questions about our backgrounds. These microaggressions might seem minor, but they can have a cumulative, debilitating effect on our professional lives.</strong></p><h3>The Two Sides of Human Resources</h3><p><strong>It's essential to approach Human Resources with both caution and due diligence. Remember, HR may aim to do the right thing, but they're also a part of the company's structure, designed to protect the business from potential liabilities. While there are rare exceptions of HR departments that genuinely address concerns, we, as marginalized or first-generation individuals, can't afford to take risks lightly.</strong></p><p><strong>Still, if you're facing challenges like microaggressions or outright discrimination, it's essential to bring these issues to light. Document everything—conversations, incidents, and any exchanges that make you feel uncomfortable. Only then can the company begin to address the problem. If your efforts with HR don't result in fair treatment or if the issues escalate, consulting with an employment law attorney becomes a crucial next step.<br></strong><br><em>Disclaimer: The information provided here is not legal advice. If you're facing specific issues, consult with a qualified employment law attorney.</em></p><h3>Our Voices Are Not a Burden but a Necessity</h3><p><strong>The call for diversity in the workplace is no longer just a slogan; it’s a business strategy. Our voices are needed to address the complex issues companies face today. But let’s be clear: The responsibility to diversify and enrich workplace culture isn't ours to shoulder. We bring to the table insights and skills that are not just 'nice-to-haves' but are imperative for modern business survival and growth.</strong></p><h3>The Future Is Ours to Shape, and Businesses Are Catching On</h3><p><strong>In sum, we're not just seat-fillers; we're game-changers. Our unique blend of life experiences, coupled with an ownership mentality, makes us invaluable in any professional setting. As businesses evolve to meet new challenges, they are coming to realize what we already know: We are not just part of the conversation; we are leading it. And while the corporate world is still playing catch-up, we continue to be—unquestionably—indispensable.</strong></p>

A Professional Guide for Ethnically Diverse and First-Generation Individuals

Beautiful Landscape View of Carrizo Peak, New Mexico

<h3><strong>The Legacy We Carry</strong></h3><p><strong>We're the embodiment of those who came before us—their hopes, their labors, their dreams. Yet, while we may be shaped by their aspirations, it's crucial to remember that we're not bound by them. We have the privilege and responsibility to navigate our own courses, each different and meaningful in its own right.</strong></p><h3><strong>The True Meaning of Opportunity</strong></h3><p><strong>Holding a diploma or landing that first job isn't just fulfilling someone else's vision of success. It's a moment that validates our own worth and potential, achieved through opportunities that were fought for but not dictated by our predecessors. Opportunity is not just about education or titles; it's the freedom to choose our direction. It's the power to make decisions, whether in line with long-standing family dreams or roads less traveled. And that power, that freedom, is why we were brought here.</strong></p><h3>The Weight of Expectation</h3><p><strong>We can't ignore that we face different kinds of pressures, unique from those that our parents or guardians faced but no less challenging. The silent expectation to succeed, to somehow quantify all the hardships that granted us these lives, can feel like a heavy mantle to wear. Yet, this emotional heaviness serves no one. It's our right, and perhaps our obligation, to take joy in the road we choose. The real opportunity lies in that choice, that freedom.</strong></p><h3>The Fruit of Labor and Dreams</h3><p><strong>This privilege to choose, this freedom we've been blessed with, wasn't merely handed to us—it was earned through the struggles and sacrifices of those who paved the way. We didn't ask for this legacy, but here it is, an unspoken gift from our parents, our grandparents, our aunts, and uncles. It is a chance to make their labor meaningful by making choices that resonate with us, that bring us closer to who we want to be. This isn't a burden; it's an honor, a loving trust placed in us to continue a journey they started but could not complete.</strong></p><h3>A Final Thought</h3><p><strong>As we navigate the roads ahead, let's be aware that this isn't a universally shared experience. The weightiness of honoring a history, of living up to sacrifices we didn't make but benefit from, is unique to our journey. These aren't challenges everyone knows or understands. Our parents and forebearers didn't leave behind everything they knew just for us to walk a path laid out by someone else. The unique heritage that shapes our present and future imbues us with the responsibility to be true to ourselves. In making choices that genuinely resonate with us, we honor not just our history, but also our individuality. That's not just a privilege; it's a necessity. And the difference between our journey and someone else's is not in the miles traveled but in the story told along the way. So, let's honor our blessings by living a life that is wholly and unapologetically our own.</strong></p>

The Dreams and Sacrifices That Guide Us

<h3>Two Homelands, One Life</h3><p><strong>Born in Tijuana but raised in Nashville, my life has been a unique recipe—part Mexican heritage, part American experience. The saying "ni de aquí, ni de allá" wasn't just a phrase; it was my lived reality. While Nashville was my home, Tijuana was a distant but crucial part of my identity—a place I could barely remember but felt connected to, especially given my undocumented status.&nbsp;</strong></p><h3>Living on the Sidelines</h3><p><strong>Being undocumented was like standing outside a candy store, looking through the window. I watched my American friends get their first driver's licenses, land their first jobs, and talk about traveling abroad, knowing that these experiences were off-limits for me.</strong></p><h3><strong>Defying Labels&nbsp;</strong></h3><p><strong>I refused to be boxed in by the term "undocumented." It described my legal situation, but it didn't define who I was. While school was my focus, I couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, of not fully belonging even though Nashville was the only home I knew. But this sense of being out of place also drove me. It fueled my ambition to create a space where people like me could feel a sense of belonging.</strong></p><h3>Chasing a Different Dream</h3><p><strong>Every achievement, big or small, wasn't just for me; it was for all of us who live in the in-between spaces of life. I thought I wanted to be a lawyer, but as it turns out, my path led me to different workplaces where I could make a meaningful difference.</strong></p><h3>Voz and Valor Is A Shared Experience</h3><p><strong>This platform isn't just about me; it's about all of us. It's about every first-generation individual, every person living in the shadows, who has faced hardships but has come out the other side stronger. This is where we acknowledge not just the struggles but the wins—big and small—that we've achieved along the way.</strong></p><h3>New Chapter, Same Commitment</h3><p><strong>I'm pleased to share that I now have documented status. While this marks a significant personal milestone, I recognize it as a privilege not afforded to everyone.</strong></p><p><strong>This platform isn't just a spotlight; it's a stage where many can gather, where we amplify the voices that often go unheard. As some of us experience significant milestones, it's crucial not to forget those who are navigating life's complexities, especially without the advantages of documentation or widespread community support.</strong></p><p><strong>So let's turn our collective vision toward what lies ahead. Let's use this space to share stories, celebrate each other's triumphs, and offer real support for the struggles that remain. Together, we can create not just a forum, but a movement—an inclusive, empowering community built on empathy, wisdom, and hope for a better tomorrow for everyone.</strong></p>

Voz and Valor

Insights

First-Gen Struggle Between Communal Ties and American Ind...

The Unseen Scars of Growing Up Undocumented

A Professional Guide for Ethnically Diverse and First-Gen...

The Dreams and Sacrifices That Guide Us

Living at the Intersection: A Journey Through Dual Identi...