Latest news with #Latinas
Refinery29
15 hours ago
- Lifestyle
- Refinery29
As a Latina Bride, I Had to Unlearn What Marriage Should Look Like
Getting married was never part of my vision board. I was busy carving out a life of solo flights, financial autonomy, and career success. When my fiancé and I decided to say 'I do,' it wasn't driven by the need to check another box on life's to-do list. It was because I had found someone whose ambitions matched my own, someone who saw partnership not as surrender, but as two full lives coming together. A recent study even quantifies what many of us already know: Latinas are more likely than any other demographic in the U.S. to feel bound by traditional gender roles in marriage, 'be beautiful, do housework, and start a family.' Yet here I am — a newly engaged Boricua woman — poised to say 'yes' on my own terms. Growing up, media portrayed getting married as the ultimate goal, a finish line stamped with a gorgeous white lace dress and endless florals. Every coming-of-age movie seemed to suggest that I, too, should dream of my wedding day first and my career second. But I never felt that pressure from my family. The focus was always to be a fully independent woman, all by myself and for myself, so I chased other markers of success: stamps in my passport, launching my own business, and buying my first property. The idea of spending thousands on just one night struck me as frivolous when my time, and money, were devoted to my ambitions. ' "The focus was always to be a fully independent woman, all by myself and for myself, so I chased other markers of success: stamps in my passport, launching my own business, and buying my first property." victoria leandra ' Marriage hadn't been on my planner until I looked at the man beside me and thought, 'With the right person, this is something I could see for myself.' It was then that I realized marriage was not a performance of sacrifice or obedience. It could be a partnership of equals, a mutual commitment that honors each person's identity. As a travel journalist and content creator who genuinely loves to travel, but also makes a living doing so, one of the earliest misconceptions I confronted was the idea that a married woman needs permission to travel. Friends and relatives asked, 'Does he let you go alone?' as if I required his 'okay' to live my life. In truth, he's often on the road for work, and I wouldn't dream of micromanaging his itinerary, either. We plan to run our household on communication, not on permissions. We are two autonomous individuals who choose to explore — together or solo — without sacrificing our independence. I like to think traveling apart also allows us to miss one another. ' "Marriage hadn't been on my planner until I looked at the man beside me and thought, 'With the right person, this is something I could see for myself.'" victoria leandra ' Another expectation I grappled with was the automatic name change. 'I'm not changing my name,' I told him. And then I suggested something even more radical: 'why not invent a new last name that belongs to both of us?' Even that tiny question felt explosive, a declaration that this marriage belongs to us, and not to the lineage we inherit or the patriarchy. In Latine households, women typically cook and take care of the kids while men provide. Yet in our home, chores flow organically. We both cook, we both clean, and we both do laundry. We don't default to gendered roles for the sake of following tradition. Instead, we honor each other's strengths. Weddings can feel like joining a vast family network, where you're not only uniting with a partner but also becoming part of an entire lineage. But I want to start 'our' family, one that plays by our own 'marriage rules,' like choosing where we want to spend the holidays as opposed to defaulting to a particular home. Yes, we cherish our families, but we also set boundaries and prioritize our nuclear partnership when we need to. ' "In Latine households, women typically cook and take care of the kids while men provide. Yet in our home, chores flow organically. We both cook, we both clean, and we both do laundry. We don't default to gendered roles for the sake of following tradition. Instead, we honor each other's strengths." victoria leandra ' The moment a wedding date is whispered, so too is ' ¿Y el bebé, pa' cuándo? ' — the assumption that marriage comes hand-in-hand with parenthood. But I refuse to let that question define my timeline. When asked, I smile and say, 'Not now, maybe later.' But I've also said: 'Are you helping support them?' It's not news that the majority of the upbringing labor, both physical and emotional, falls on the mother. From money conversations to career changes, we've asked ourselves every uncomfortable question under the sun: 'Who pays the bills?' 'Who handles the investments?' 'What if one of us wants to move abroad?' By debating these topics, we stripped away the shame around money and power dynamics. Money is not a tool of control but a shared resource that empowers us both. We made decisions together, as equals who respect each other's contributions. ' "As a Latina, I honor my heritage and the traditions that shaped me, but I also choose which parts of that legacy to carry forward. Marriage is not a script I must follow; it is a story we co-write. " victoria leandra ' In many Latine communities, weddings are grand productions, a way to showcase social standing and family pride. But the size of our guest list or the opulence of our décor is not a measure of our love. Our destination wedding will be a party for our people, not a status symbol for onlookers. Finally, I've heard countless stories of latent resentment when a wife's dreams were put on hold in service of her marriage or kids. Long before having kids, I've already discussed how we can ensure I don't feel this way if or when the time comes. I have not softened my edges or dimmed my aspirations porque calladita no soy más bonita. For me, marriage should uplift and celebrate our identity rather than erase it. As a Latina, I honor my heritage and the traditions that shaped me, but I also choose which parts of that legacy to carry forward. Marriage is not a script I must follow; it is a story we co-write. And so I choose. I choose love on my terms, partnership on our terms, and life on our terms. That is what it means to redefine marriage as a Latina today.
Sky News AU
14-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Sky News AU
Comedian attacked during hilarious mass deportation stunt
Comedian Alex Stein reacts to a hilarious video of his in which he protests to protect 'big, booty Latinas' from mass deportation, getting attacked in the process. 'I was out there trying to protect the big booty Latinas, and I had to say this is the biggest bipartisan political movement that is sweeping the nation,' Mr Stein told Sky News host Rita Panahi. 'A lot of people are on board.'
Refinery29
02-07-2025
- Lifestyle
- Refinery29
For Latinas, Glam Isn't Vanity — It's Legacy, Armor & Self-Love
Whether it's hiring a makeup artist for a speaking engagement or doing a full face before running errands, many Latinas know the power of showing up polished. But this isn't just about vanity — it's cultural muscle memory. In many of our households, being "presentable" isn't optional; it's expected. It's a learned behavior passed from one generation to the next, but most of all, it's deeply tied to notions of pride, self-care, and even survival. '[Getting glammed] is a ritual of self-honoring,' Dr. Elena Montalván, a board certified dermatologist based in Puerto Rico, tells Refinery29 Somos. "It's not vanity, it's presence. Preparing myself, whether it's skincare or red lipstick, is a way of saying, 'I matter.' It's the energy I pour into myself before I give to the world." In our culture, glam is a practice that blends aesthetics, spirituality, and strategy. For many Latinas, especially immigrants or daughters of immigrants, beauty routines aren't just for looks — they're a kind of armor. An intentional presentation to claim space in a world that doesn't always make room for us. ' "In our culture, glam is a practice that blends aesthetics, spirituality, and strategy." victoria leandra ' Content creator and Miss Universe Cuba candidate Mia Dio remembers this as part of her upbringing: "My mom used to dress me like a little doll when I was a baby: matching bows and coordinated outfits. Looking back, I think that was her way of showing love. Presentation wasn't just for looks, it was pride.' The expectation to look "put together" was reinforced with both subtle and overt cues: grandmothers who slept in rolos and moms who wouldn't let us leave the house without lip gloss (because we never know who we might run into!). For Rebeca Torres, glam feels almost instinctual. 'My mom always made sure I had everything I needed to look put together, from well-fitted clothes and clean shoes to good hygiene and always smelling like heaven,' she tells Somos. Beauty became such an intrinsic part of her identity that she built a career around it, eventually becoming the Senior Communications Manager at L'Oréal Caribe. But glam can also be about respectability and perception. Dr. Montalván, who navigates the elite and often white-male-dominated field of medicine, understands this firsthand. "As a Latina in medicine, I've felt the weight of 'proving' I belonged. Looking polished was part of that unspoken expectation," she says. "Now, I show up presentable for me, not to fit into someone else's mold." ' "I've felt the weight of 'proving' I belonged. Looking polished was part of that unspoken expectation." Dr. Elena Montalván ' Still, the line between empowerment and pressure is often blurred. "It becomes a burden when looking put together becomes an intense requirement and not just a self-care ritual," Dio, who knows this all too well from her experience in beauty pageants, adds. "But even on my days off, I remind myself I don't owe anyone glam. I do it when it feels good. It just so happens that it feels good more often than not." Torres, on the other hand, says glam never feels like a burden for her. "Getting ready is a form of meditation. It's that moment in the day when I can set myself up for success,' she explains. "And no matter what happens, if I already had that moment for myself, I'm good." This duality is part of what makes the Latina relationship to glam so layered. It's a love language, a shield, and a cultural inheritance. But it's also a demand that can feel unrelenting, unsustainable, and tiring, which is why some have turned it into a ritual instead. From splashing cold water on the face for a spiritual reset to literally praying through skincare routines, the body becomes an altar. "To me, skincare is sacred, non-negotiable," Dr. Montalván said. "Fashion, on the other hand, is storytelling, and I write [my own script] every morning.' Dr. Montalván is known for posting her 'outfit of the day' on Instagram stories every morning. She's an example that you can be both: intelligent and emperifollá. 'My intelligence and my eyeliner are not mutually exclusive,' she says. ' "It becomes a burden when looking put together becomes an intense requirement and not just a self-care ritual." Mia Dio ' These rituals often begin early on in our homes. The matriarchs of our families didn't just pass down recipes, they passed down beauty regimens. My mom used to pour Medalla Light beer on my head at the beach to naturally lighten my hair under the sun, and she knew Agua Maravilla was an affordable toner long before clean beauty became a trend. For Dio, that looks like knowing how to do a blowout or add volume to her hair with rollers because her grandmother still does both, daily. "It's become a way for us to honor the women who came before us," she says. In a culture that can be hyper-visual and where Latina visibility is often filtered through stereotypes, choosing to show up glam is not just expression — it's reclamation. We are not just what's portrayed on Univision or the overly sexualized and 'spicy' movie characters. We are complex and intentional, and sometimes we use our bemba colorá or high heels to say so. Critics might call it vain, but glam in the Latina community rarely stems from ego. "I'd say that's a limited lens," Dr. Montalván says. 'Makeup isn't a mask, it's a choice. Being 'put together' is about alignment, how I look, feel, and carry myself because I learned early on that how you show up sets the tone for how you're treated.' ' "Glam is how we show love to ourselves. It's how we cope. It's how we protect our presence in a world that often overlooks us." Mia Dio ' Dio, also a comedian, echoes the sentiment with her usual wit: "[Whoever thinks that] clearly didn't grow up in a Latino household. Glam is how we show love to ourselves. It's how we cope. It's how we protect our presence in a world that often overlooks us." Torres takes it a step further. "Since when is being vain something negative? Makeup is activism, it's self-expression, it's self-love, it's protection. None of it is vain." What may seem like "just makeup" to some is, for many Latinas, a heritage practice. It's also a response to generational adversity. When society tried to erase, glam helped us assert. When life felt unstable, un buen blower and trimmed brows helped us feel anchored. To show up glammed is to say, "I am here, I am worthy, and I am not hiding." It's the opposite of invisibility.
Yahoo
02-07-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Arellano: Trump was winning with Latinos. Now, his cruelty is derailing him
The Pew Research Center is one of the most trusted polling firms in the country, especially when it comes to Latinos. Last week, it published findings that should have been a victory lap for Donald Trump and his tortuous relationship with America's largest minority. According to Pew, Trump won 48% of Latino voters in the 2024 presidential election — the highest percentage ever recorded by a Republican presidential nominee and a 12 percentage point improvement from his 2020 showing. Latinos made up 10% of Trump's coalition, up from 7% four years ago. Latino men went with a Republican for the first time. Trump even improved his share of support among Latinas — long seen by Democratic leaders as a bulwark against their macho Trumpster relatives — by a 13-point margin, a swing even greater than that of Latino men. These stats prove what I've been warning about for years: that Latinos were souring on illegal immigration — even in blue California — and tiring of a Democratic Party too focused on policies that weren't improving their lives. This gave Trump a chance to win over Latino voters, despite his years-long bloviations against Mexico and Central American nations, because Latinos — who assimilate like any other immigrants, if not more so — were done with the Democratic status quo. They were willing to take a risk on an erratic strongman resembling those from their ancestral lands. Read more: Arellano: How an 'American Cholo' went from Hillary Clinton fan to Trump voter Pew's findings confirm one of Trump's most remarkable accomplishments — one so unlikely that professional Latinos long dismissed his election gains as exaggerations. Those voters could have been the winds blowing the xenophobic sails of his deportation fleet right now. All Trump had to do was stick to his campaign promises and target the millions of immigrants who came in illegally during the Biden years. Pick off newcomers in areas of the country where Latinos remain a sizable minority and don't have a tradition of organizing. Dare Democrats and immigrant rights activists to defend the child molesters, drug dealers and murderers Trump vowed to prioritize in his roundups. Conduct raids like a slow boil through 2026, to build on the record-breaking number of Latino GOP legislators in California and beyond. Trump has done none of that. He instead decided to smash his immigration hammer on Los Angeles, the Latino capital of the U.S. Instead of going after the worst of the worst, la migra has nabbed citizens and noncitizens alike. A Times analysis of data obtained by the Deportation Data Project at UC Berkeley Law found that nearly 70% of those arrested by Immigration and Customs Enforcement from June 1 through June 10 had no criminal convictions. Instead of harassing newcomers with few ties to the U.S., agents are sweeping up migrants who have been here for decades. Instead of doing operations that drew little attention, as happened under Presidents Obama and Biden — and even during Trump's first term — masked men have thrown around their power like secret police in a third-rate dictatorship while their bosses crow about it on social media. Instead of treating people with some dignity and allowing them a chance to contest their deportations, the Trump administration has stuffed them into detention facilities like tinned fish and treated the Constitution like a suggestion instead of the law of the land. The cruelty has always been the point for Trump. But he risks making the same mistake that California Republicans made in the 1980s and 1990s: taking a political win they earned with Latinos and turning it into trash. Next year will mark the 40th anniversary of the last amnesty for immigrants in the country illegally. It was signed into law by Ronald Reagan, who famously said that Latinos were Republicans who didn't know it yet. The Great Communicator knew that the best way to bring them into the GOP was to push meat-and-potato issues while not demonizing them. The 1986 amnesty could have been a moment for Republicans to win over Latinos during the so-called Decade of the Hispanic. Instead, California politicians began to push for xenophobic bans, including on store signs in other languages and driver's licenses for undocumented immigrants, arguing that these supposed invaders were destroying the Golden State. This movement culminated in the passage of Proposition 187 in 1994, which sought to make life miserable for undocumented immigrants and was eventually declared unconstitutional. We all know how that worked out. My generation of Mexican Americans — well on our way to assimilation, feeling little in common with the undocumented immigrants from southern Mexico and Central America who arrived after our parents — instead became radicalized. We waved the Mexican flag with pride, finding no need to brandish the Stars and Stripes that we kept in our hearts. We helped Democrats establish a supermajority in California and tossed Republicans into the political equivalent of the La Brea Tar Pits. Read more: Prop. 187 forced a generation to put fear aside and fight. It transformed California, and me When I covered anti-ICE protests in June outside a federal building in Santa Ana, it felt like the Proposition 187 years all over again. The Mexican tricolor flew again, this time joined by the flags of El Salvador, Guatemala and other Latin American countries. The majority of protesters were teens and young adults with no ties to the immigrant rights groups I know — they will be the next generation of activists. I also met folks such as Giovanni Lopez. For a good hour, the 38-year-old Santa Ana resident, wearing a white poncho depicting the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl, blew a loud plastic horn as if he were Joshua trying to knock down the walls of Jericho. It was his first protest. 'I'm all for them deporting the criminals,' Lopez said during a short break. 'But that's not what they're doing.... They're getting regular people, and that's not right. You gotta stand up for regular raza.' Since then, I've seen my social media feeds transform into a barrio CNN, as people share videos of la migra grabbing people and onlookers unafraid to tell them off. Other reels feature customers buying out street vendors for the day so they can remain safely at home. The transformation has even hit home: My dad and brother went to a 'No Kings' rally in Anaheim a few weeks ago — without telling each other, or me, beforehand. When rancho libertarians like them are angry enough to publicly fight back, you know the president is blowing it with Latinos. Back to Pew. Another report released last month found that nearly half of Latinos are worried that someone they know might get deported. The fear is real, even among Latino Republicans, with just 31% approving of Trump's plan to deport all undocumented immigrants, compared with 61% of white Republicans. California Assemblymember Suzette Martinez Valladares and state Sen. Rosilicie Ochoa Bogh are among those GOP skeptics. They signed a letter to Trump from California Republican legislators asking that his migra squads focus on actual bad hombres and "when possible, avoid the kinds of sweeping raids that instill fear and disrupt the workplace." When proud conservatives like Ochoa Bogh and Valladares, who is co-chair of the California Hispanic Legislative Caucus, are disturbed by Trump's deportation deluge, you know the president's blowing it with Latinos. Yet Trump is still at it. This week, the Department of Justice announced it was suing the L.A. City Council and Mayor Karen Bass, arguing that their "sanctuary" city policy was thwarting "the will of the American people regarding deportations." By picking on the City of Angels, Trump is letting us set an example for everyone else — because no one gets down for immigrant rights like L.A., or creates Latino political power like we do. When mass raids pop up elsewhere, communities will be ready. Many Latinos voted for Trump because they felt that Democrats forgot them. Now that Trump is paying attention to us, more and more of us are realizing that his intentions were never good — and carrying our passports because you just never know. You blew it, Donald — but what else is new? Sign up for Essential California for news, features and recommendations from the L.A. Times and beyond in your inbox six days a week. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Los Angeles Times
02-07-2025
- Politics
- Los Angeles Times
Trump was winning with Latinos. Now, his cruelty is derailing him
The Pew Research Center is one of the most trusted polling firms in the country, especially when it comes to Latinos. Last week, it published findings that should have been a victory lap for Donald Trump and his tortuous relationship with America's largest minority. According to Pew, Trump won 48% of Latino voters in the 2024 presidential election — the highest percentage ever recorded by a Republican presidential nominee and a 12 percentage point improvement from his 2020 showing. Latinos made up 10% of Trump's coalition, up from 7% four years ago. Latino men went with a Republican for the first time. Trump even improved his share of support among Latinas — long seen by Democratic leaders as a bulwark against their macho Trumpster relatives — by a 13-point margin, a swing even greater than that of Latino men. These stats prove what I've been warning about for years: that Latinos were souring on illegal immigration — even in blue California — and tiring of a Democratic Party too focused on policies that weren't improving their lives. This gave Trump a chance to win over Latino voters, despite his years-long bloviations against Mexico and Central American nations, because Latinos — who assimilate like any other immigrants, if not more so — were done with the Democratic status quo. They were willing to take a risk on an erratic strongman resembling those from their ancestral lands. Pew's findings confirm one of Trump's most remarkable accomplishments — one so unlikely that professional Latinos long dismissed his election gains as exaggerations. Those voters could have been the winds blowing the xenophobic sails of his deportation fleet right now. All Trump had to do was stick to his campaign promises and target the millions of immigrants who came in illegally during the Biden years. Pick off newcomers in areas of the country where Latinos remain a sizable minority and don't have a tradition of organizing. Dare Democrats and immigrant rights activists to defend the child molesters, drug dealers and murderers Trump vowed to prioritize in his roundups. Conduct raids like a slow boil through 2026, to build on the record-breaking number of Latino GOP legislators in California and beyond. Trump has done none of that. He instead decided to smash his immigration hammer on Los Angeles, the Latino capital of the U.S. Instead of going after the worst of the worst, la migra has nabbed citizens and noncitizens alike. A Times analysis of data obtained by the Deportation Data Project at UC Berkeley Law found that nearly 70% of those arrested by Immigration and Customs Enforcement from June 1 through June 10 had no criminal convictions. Instead of harassing newcomers with few ties to the U.S., agents are sweeping up migrants who have been here for decades. Instead of doing operations that drew little attention, as happened under Presidents Obama and Biden — and even during Trump's first term — masked men have thrown around their power like secret police in a third-rate dictatorship while their bosses crow about it on social media. Instead of treating people with some dignity and allowing them a chance to contest their deportations, the Trump administration has stuffed them into detention facilities like tinned fish and treated the Constitution like a suggestion instead of the law of the land. The cruelty has always been the point for Trump. But he risks making the same mistake that California Republicans made in the 1980s and 1990s: taking a political win they earned with Latinos and turning it into trash. Next year will mark the 40th anniversary of the last amnesty for immigrants in the country illegally. It was signed into law by Ronald Reagan, who famously said that Latinos were Republicans who didn't know it yet. The Great Communicator knew that the best way to bring them into the GOP was to push meat-and-potato issues while not demonizing them. The 1986 amnesty could have been a moment for Republicans to win over Latinos during the so-called Decade of the Hispanic. Instead, California politicians began to push for xenophobic bans, including on store signs in other languages and driver's licenses for undocumented immigrants, arguing that these supposed invaders were destroying the Golden State. This movement culminated in the passage of Proposition 187 in 1994, which sought to make life miserable for undocumented immigrants and was eventually declared unconstitutional. We all know how that worked out. My generation of Mexican Americans — well on our way to assimilation, feeling little in common with the undocumented immigrants from southern Mexico and Central America who arrived after our parents — instead became radicalized. We waved the Mexican flag with pride, finding no need to brandish the Stars and Stripes that we kept in our hearts. We helped Democrats establish a supermajority in California and tossed Republicans into the political equivalent of the La Brea Tar Pits. When I covered anti-ICE protests in June outside a federal building in Santa Ana, it felt like the Proposition 187 years all over again. The Mexican tricolor flew again, this time joined by the flags of El Salvador, Guatemala and other Latin American countries. The majority of protesters were teens and young adults with no ties to the immigrant rights groups I know — they will be the next generation of activists. I also met folks such as Giovanni Lopez. For a good hour, the 38-year-old Santa Ana resident, wearing a white poncho depicting the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl, blew a loud plastic horn as if he were Joshua trying to knock down the walls of Jericho. It was his first protest. 'I'm all for them deporting the criminals,' Lopez said during a short break. 'But that's not what they're doing.... They're getting regular people, and that's not right. You gotta stand up for regular raza.' Since then, I've seen my social media feeds transform into a barrio CNN, as people share videos of la migra grabbing people and onlookers unafraid to tell them off. Other reels feature customers buying out street vendors for the day so they can remain safely at home. The transformation has even hit home: My dad and brother went to a 'No Kings' rally in Anaheim a few weeks ago — without telling each other, or me, beforehand. When rancho libertarians like them are angry enough to publicly fight back, you know the president is blowing it with Latinos. Back to Pew. Another report released last month found that nearly half of Latinos are worried that someone they know might get deported. The fear is real, even among Latino Republicans, with just 31% approving of Trump's plan to deport all undocumented immigrants, compared with 61% of white Republicans. California Assemblymember Suzette Martinez Valladares and state Sen. Rosilicie Ochoa Bogh are among those GOP skeptics. They signed a letter to Trump from California Republican legislators asking that his migra squads focus on actual bad hombres and 'when possible, avoid the kinds of sweeping raids that instill fear and disrupt the workplace.' When proud conservatives like Ochoa Bogh and Valladares, who is co-chair of the California Hispanic Legislative Caucus, are disturbed by Trump's deportation deluge, you know the president's blowing it with Latinos. Yet Trump is still at it. This week, the Department of Justice announced it was suing the L.A. City Council and Mayor Karen Bass, arguing that their 'sanctuary' city policy was thwarting 'the will of the American people regarding deportations.' By picking on the City of Angels, Trump is letting us set an example for everyone else — because no one gets down for immigrant rights like L.A., or creates Latino political power like we do. When mass raids pop up elsewhere, communities will be ready. Many Latinos voted for Trump because they felt that Democrats forgot them. Now that Trump is paying attention to us, more and more of us are realizing that his intentions were never good — and carrying our passports because you just never know. You blew it, Donald — but what else is new?
