From Deferred Action to Zapotec: Recognizing the Reality of “Latino” Politics

The results of this past U.S. presidential election have led to many “hot takes” from so-called political experts attempting to explain Latino support for Trump, leading to a resurgence of stereotypes about Latino voters. The common thread in these narratives is that they all ignore the manufactured nature of the “Latino” label. They all ignore the hard reality that “Latinos”¹ are, in fact, a collection of distinct communities with different histories, cultures, and political views that were lumped together for historical purposes.

For most people, Latinos are often lumped into a single “ethnic” bloc, but in reality, they’re a collection of groups from across Latin America or of vague Latin American descent. For example, conservative, often deeply Catholic Latinos of largely Spanish ancestry (i.e., European) might share few, if any, sociocultural ties with individuals from Indigenous communities in places like Mexico and Guatemala, some of whom may only have been speaking Spanish for a generation or less. When these diverse communities do align, it’s often due to colonial histories and shared political experiences rather than any actual sense of shared identity.

This misunderstanding goes beyond ignoring diversity—it erases cultural and historical distinctions that become political. U.S. political narratives flatten Latino identities, forcing them into a mold for the sake of expediency. When Latinos do rally around certain issues, it’s often circumstantial rather than an overarching “Latino” identity.

Diverse Communities, Diverse Histories, Diverse Politics

To illustrate this erasure, consider the perspective shared by Odilia Romero, an Indigenous Zapotec community leader in Southern California, who has highlighted how the broader Latino narrative is oppressive to Indigenous communities. Through her Los Angeles-based nonprofit Comunidades Indígenas en liderazgo (CIELO), Odilia is fighting for social justice for her communities “through a cultural lens”. CIELO’s work underscores the importance of recognizing the unique struggles faced by Indigenous communities, who often find their communities erased by the more visible and marketable Latino label. As she explains, the broader “Latino” label often overlooks the distinct histories, languages, and cultural identities of Indigenous people, perpetuating marginalization within their own communities.

The work of CIELO is important because Indigenous peoples within Latino communities are a rapidly growing demographic in California and are becoming critical constituencies for political victories in some areas.

For many Latino communities in the U.S., especially those who hold significant financial resources, the fear of deportation or other issues facing lower-income Latino communities isn’t pressing. Wealthy Latinos—often with roots in their home countries’ upper classes, or “lumpenbourgeoisie"—frequently align with conservative values, particularly when it comes to wealth and business. These people, largely men, have little connection to or concern for the struggles of working-class communities, immigrant or otherwise. They will not identify with the struggles of the DACA recipient from Honduras any more than other wealthy conservatives.

Engagement Gaps: The Mexican Election and Missed Opportunities

And yes, misogyny remains an issue in these communities, like it does in all communities, and must be confronted. The headline suggesting that “Latino men just didn’t want a woman president” might very well reflect a reality for many U.S. Latino men. Yet this doesn’t hold up across borders; in Mexico, for instance, nearly 90% of the votes in the June presidential election were cast for female candidates, leading to the historic election of Mexico’s first woman president, Claudia Sheinbaum.

Even with Sheinbaum as president, Mexico remains a sexist, often violently misogynistic society—but Mexican political parties understood the political landscape and campaigned accordingly, successfully overcoming the gender bias. By contrast, the U.S. political establishment’s approach offers none of this nuance, often replicating strategies that might work for the music industry, but fail miserably for electoral campaigns.

In the U.S., immigrant political engagement remains low, especially when it comes to opportunities for cross-border civic engagement, like voting in Mexican elections. Despite tens of millions of eligible Mexican voters living in the U.S., only a tiny fraction—184,326 voters—cast ballots in the June presidential election. This mostly stems from Mexican historical barriers, such as strict voter ID requirements, that have discouraged participation. While these policies have improved, the low turnout also reflects the U.S. political establishment’s lack of engagement with immigrant communities and their unique needs, particularly when it comes to mixed-citizenship households.

Why a New Political Narrative in Needed

This moment illustrates the problematic tendency to oversimplify and label people based on their heritage or appearance. The “Latino” label was largely crafted for political and demographic convenience, erasing real distinctions within communities with vastly different histories, from Mexican Indigenous peoples to Cuban Americans. In reality, “Latino” communities are diverse, with varying experiences shaped by factors like class, race, and cultural history. The assumption that there’s an actual Latino identity often leads to misunderstandings and missed opportunities for political engagement.

If the political establishment is serious about cultivating long-term engagement, it must invest in immigrant communities, fostering awareness and involvement in elections both here and abroad. The lack of attention to the Mexican presidential election underscores a deeper issue: the political establishment’s failure to recognize and understand this diversity.

In Mexico, the winning coalition, led by the Morena party, has been championing a “Fourth Transformation,” a platform focused on supporting the working class and driving socioeconomic change. This approach has resonated deeply with many Mexicans, but has gone largely unacknowledged by U.S. political leaders, who historically dismiss any political movement south of the border, no matter how popular or relevant it might be to key constituencies here. A more nuanced approach—one that values the unique histories, concerns, and aspirations of key constituencies—would benefit the U.S. political landscape, cultivating more authentic and sustained engagement.

To be clear, this critique is not unique to this election and it’s one I have reiterated many times in my fourteen years of political work in California—this is my professional assessment. But if there is an actual desire to build a more inclusive democracy, the U.S. political establishment needs to work on deconstructing the Latino monolith. Engaging these communities means understanding their experiences and recognizing their agency, rather than treating them as a political catchall.