I come from a long tradition of love overcoming prejudice. On my father's side, my grandfather was a second-generation Albanian-American. He married my grandmother, who came from a well-to-do New Jersey family, defying societal expectations and causing a bit of a scandal. My abuelitos (grandparents) on my mother's side came from Mexico and defied social expectations in their own way.
To the casual North American observer, my abuelitos may seem like Mexicans — but in fact my abuelito's (grandfather's) family comes from Michoacan, a state in central Mexico where the people are often considered more "indigino" (indigenous or native) than my abuelita's (grandmother's) family as a "norteña" (coming from the northern part of Mexico) in Monterrey.
Of course, my parents' love overcame strife as well — a biracial family made up of a Mexican-American Latina and a white Yankee turned heads. In my own way, I try to live their legacy as a member of the queer community; it was only five years ago that I was legally allowed to marry, and the struggle for LGBT rights certainly lives on.
When I think back on the legacy of my family, I think of immigrants from Eastern Europe and Mexico who have faced such incredible obstacles to overcome so much. My abuelitos embody this in many ways. Neither of them went to high school, let alone college, and yet they instilled a dedication in my mother and tíos and tías (uncles and aunts) that hard work and education would lead them out of poverty. However, I want to be clear, while my mother's family embodies the "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" spirit of the American dream, working hard and being rewarded, this is the exception. My mother and her brothers and sisters succeeded despite these odds, unlike so many others who are mired in poverty, lack of access, racism and structural inequality.
While growing up in Texas shaped my Tejano identity, it also laid bare the entrenched systems of racism. My understanding of social inequality and race began as a child. I saw my mother's poor Latinx family and my father's wealthy white family; I saw my hometown of Austin, Texas, segregated into rich whiteness and poor brown and blackness. Yet I also saw communities overcoming struggle, mobilizing for better schools, fighting for access to healthy food, and demanding more of a say in the government and policies that shaped their lives. I saw the power of community development.
At NeighborWorks America I'm able to put these values and beliefs into practice. I've engaged with first-time homebuyers as a volunteer Spanish translator for the NeighborhoodLIFT program (a nationwide down payment initiative of NeighborWorks America and the Wells Fargo Housing Foundation). As a translator, I'm able to give Spanish-speaking clients access to down payment assistance funds that enable them to buy their first home. Across the country, NeighborWorks supports Hispanic homeowners in unprecedented ways. In 2017, Hispanic homeowners accounted for only 11 percent of all originated, single-family first mortgage loans across the country (Home Mortgage Disclosure Act 2017). In 2018, nearly 23 percent of the NeighborWorks network's created homeowners are Hispanic. This dedication to building wealth in Latinx communities also empowers a historically marginalized community, a community that is filled with rich traditions of food, struggle, resistance and resilience.