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Author: Luisa Vargas

We Are Living Different Realities

Por Jazzari T. Taylor,  Policy Advocate, Latino Outdoors

ICE raids are not “public safety.” They are terror and are disruptive by design. They do not begin to capture the broader impacts of the current administration on the nation’s economy and environment, as outlined by Climate Power (January 2026).

ICE was created to enforce immigration law, but has been weaponized to advance political agendas hidden behind “Make America Great Again” propaganda. Individuals and communities are being racially profiled, detained without due process, children are separated from parents, and families are ripped apart in minutes. ICE is entering homes without a judge’s warrant.

People have gone missing. People have been harmed by the very country they looked to for opportunity and hope. People have died at the hands of political agendas, untrained agents, and hate.

Photo: American Flag in Joshua Tree National Park – Flying the American flag upside down is a signal of
dire distress or extreme danger to life or property, as outlined in the U.S. Flag Code.

Justice for those killed. Justice for the thousands still in detention centers. Justice for those wrongfully deported, violently injured, and terrorized.

Something I heard recently has been sitting with me: “We are all living different realities.” I see it online and within my own family. Someone will say, “But we’re okay,” or “That’s not us,” or “We’re not like them — we came here the legal way.”

I try to understand where those statements come from. Assimilation. Survival tactics. Fear. Propaganda repeated so long that it starts to feel like the truth. But understanding isn’t the same as justifying. Explaining the mindset doesn’t erase the harm.

Because I keep coming back to the same question: who is “them”?

Most of the time, “them” just means other people different by language, culture, race, who they love, identity, or immigration status. And once someone becomes “other,” it becomes easier to deny them rights. Underneath it all is a curated narrative of who gets to belong and who doesn’t. Who is “American enough”? People are labeled “immigrants” like it’s an insult, on lands that were never meant to be measured by imaginary lines.

Borders have been used to decide who is welcome, who is punished, and who is forced to prove their humanity. Indigenous people, who have always been here, are still expected to fight for recognition and protection on their own homelands.

None of this is normal. All of this has been strategically created for the benefit of the few.

So I have to ask: what does it even mean to be American? Is it a birth certificate? A passport? A look? A last name? A language spoken? Or is it a dream we’re constantly striving for? This is both rhetorical and thought-provoking.

What many of us were taught “being American” meant came with freedom, equality, and the right to be one’s true self. Challenging false narratives isn’t unpatriotic; it’s necessary. Right now, the U.S. feels so far from that dream that I barely recognize it. It’s heartbreaking. But I still believe in the power of people to hold this country accountable.

Maybe this is the opportunity to redefine “American” not as gatekeepers, but as protectors. Not as owners, but as stewards. People are willing to learn, reflect, and face the past so we don’t repeat it. The right to exist in a safe world that offers the opportunity to dream should not be something you have to earn.

History isn’t only written by politicians. It’s written by what the rest of us accept as normal. And this moment is a moral test. Morality isn’t abstract; it exists right now in front of all. It exists right now, the choice between silence and solidarity.

I refuse to accept systems that treat human beings as disposable. There is nothing moral about terrorizing communities. If you’re ready to take action right now, here is one immediate way to help:

Tell Congress: No More Tax Dollars for ICE & CBP. We Demand Accountability. Congress is considering funding levels for ICE and CBP in upcoming federal spending decisions. Our communities should not be asked to bankroll agencies that continue racial profiling, detention, deportation, and harm without real oversight. Use this tool to contact your representatives and demand accountability, meaningful limits, and a vote against expanding this violence.

El primer 5.13 b encadenado por una mujer en Puerto Rico

Por Nina Medina

No todas las historias de escalada en Puerto Rico empiezan con un flechazo. A veces, como le pasó a Mariely Bonilla Viana de Carolina Puerto Rico (mejor conocida como Ely), todo comienza casi por accidente: una vecina que la lleva al gimnasio de escalada, una actividad escolar que parece un pasatiempo más.

“Me fue bien, mejor que al resto del grupo, pero no me enamoré del deporte en ese instante. Fue como ir al cine, una actividad más”, recuerda.

Lo suyo era el baile: ballet, jazz, hip hop. Incluso planeaba abrir una academia de baile con su hermana. Pero tras varios bloqueos en el escenario decidió dejarlo. La vida, sin embargo, le tenía otra prueba.
Un día, al llegar a una de las rutas más difíciles del gimnasio, un escalador musculoso la retó con una frase que marcaría su destino: “Si yo no pude, tú no vas a poder.” Mariely se subió… y la encadenó. “Con el orgullo en high pensé: ‘esto es lo que quiero hacer’.”

Rutas que nadie más quiere
Desde entonces, Mariely—una de las escaladoras boricuas más duras—se sintió atraída por rutas poco transitadas. “Lo bonito es descifrarlo por ti misma, no que te digan la beta.” Así llegó a Juana Díaz, donde un proyecto se convirtió en obsesión. Esta ruta se llama Duelo de Mitro. Grado sugerido 13 b. Encadenada por Ely el 10 de julio del 2025.

El reto no fue solo físico, sino mental. “Los agarres eran tan pequeños y dolorosos que los dedos quedaban casi en carne viva. Usaba tape, pero me resbalaba. Me obsesioné tanto que dejé pasar oportunidades, incluso viajes con mi pareja.”

El consejo de un amigo la sostuvo: “Tienes que seguir tratando, así es como eventualmente la vas a poder terminar.” Y tenía razón. Tras un descanso obligado, Ely regresó y finalmente encadenó la ruta, uno de los logros más importantes de la escalada deportiva en la isla.

El grito de victoria
El último movimiento fue pura concentración. “Me repetía: ‘la tienes, los pies están bien, la tienes’. Al llegar a la cadena, parte de mí dudaba que fuera real. Tuve que ver el video para confirmarlo.”
Lo que sí fue real: el grito de victoria. “De alegría aún no he llorado, pero de frustración, sí”, confiesa. Ely tiene el primer ascenso encadenando esta ruta y es la primera mujer boricua en lograr encadenar este grado de dificultad.

Inspirar a otras mujeres en la escalada
Mariely nunca pensó que algo fuera imposible. “Tal vez ahora no tengo la fuerza, pero eventualmente podré descifrarlo.” Esa mentalidad se convierte en ejemplo para otras.

“Mi logro puede motivar a mujeres cercanas a intentarlo. Muchos se intimidan por los grados, pero no es hasta que lo prueban que se dan cuenta que no es tan difícil.”

A las niñas que dan sus primeros pasos en la roca les dice:
👉 “Un paso a la vez. Siempre puedes volver y llegar más lejos. Y no te guardes tus miedos: decirlos en voz alta los convierte en una carga compartida.”

Este mensaje conecta con muchas mujeres que buscan espacios en la comunidad de escalada latina.

Escalar como espejo
Hoy trabaja un nuevo proyecto en la Cueva Corretjer en Ciales, Puerto Rico, una de las zonas más visitadas por quienes buscan rutas de escalada en Puerto Rico. Pero más allá de cadenas y grados, para ella la escalada es un espejo: “Es un constante redescubrir de qué estoy hecha y qué tan lejos puedo llegar.”

Nunca se sintió fuera de lugar en la comunidad, aunque al inicio había pocas mujeres. “El grupo con el que compartía siempre me alentaba. Decían que hacían falta más féminas. Llevo eso conmigo siempre.”

Más que un logro personal
En un país donde los deportes no convencionales rara vez ocupan portadas, y donde la violencia de género sigue siendo una herida social, la historia de Mariely resuena más allá de la roca. Cada encadene femenino es también un acto de resistencia, un recordatorio de que las mujeres en la escalada tienen espacio, voz y fuerza en cada pared que deciden subir.

Nina Medina natural del oeste de Puerto Rico. Apasionada de la escalada, el cuerpo y sus movimientos, escribe para visibilizar a mujeres y comunidades latinas en deportes no convencionales y salud preventiva. Su misión es contar historias que inspiren determinación, inclusión y amor por la naturaleza y nuestra capacidad de ser mejores seres humanos.

Brown Skin, Bold Rides: Leading with Heritage in Outdoor Spaces

por Gabriela Hydle

Gabriela Hydle is a proud Mayan Guatemalan woman, outdoor advocate, and the Chief Director of Programs at Americas for Conservation and the Arts (AFCA). Her journey into the world of outdoor recreation didn’t begin in childhood or through traditional pathways; it began with a single mountain bike ride that reshaped her life. Growing up without access to outdoor adventure or cycling culture, she never saw herself reflected in those spaces. But that first ride opened a door to strength, resilience, and self-discovery that would come to define both her personal path and her professional mission.

Since then, she has explored nearly every cycling discipline: gravel, downhill, fat biking, bikepacking, and road, each one teaching her lessons in patience, focus, and trust. Her journey led her to become, possibly, the first Guatemalan to earn a BICP Level 1 mountain bike instructor certification, a milestone not only of personal growth but of representation in a space where Indigenous, immigrant, and brown bodies are still too often invisible.

At AFCA, she leads with intention, developing programs rooted in environmental justice, cultural preservation, and equitable access to the outdoors. Her work bridges traditional ecological knowledge with contemporary conservation practices, and includes bilingual workshops, youth mentorship, and multi-state collaborations that center on underrepresented communities. She also brings this commitment to grassroots spaces such as supporting Spanish-language bike mechanic classes for Latinas, where bikes become tools of empowerment, connection, and identity.

Beyond biking, she recently learned how to ski, a sport she never imagined trying, especially not as an adult. Skiing was unfamiliar, intimidating, and way outside her comfort zone. But like biking, it taught her that fear can be a teacher and that growth often lives just on the other side of discomfort. Every time she shows up for something new, she reminds herself: I belong here, too. She is expanding her movement practice through a 200-hour yoga teacher training and training for her first relay Ironman (iron person), constantly seeking growth, even in discomfort. Whether on a bike, on skis, or on a yoga mat, she believes movement is a form of healing and resistance.

Her mission is clear: to make the outdoors a more inclusive, transformative space. She rides and leads for those who haven’t yet seen themselves in these landscapes, so they, too, can know they belong.

Gabriela is also a volunteer Outings Leader with Latino Outdoors Colorado. Her favorite part about leading is seeing people discover nature for the first time or when we are all outside sharing with their families or friends and the moment they realize that the outdoors can be for them, too. It’s a privilege to be part of this adventure, where Latinx families come together, share stories, and build confidence in wild spaces where they’ve not always felt seen.