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Tag: Latino Outdoors

Feeling

I walk, I breathe, I can feel the heat, I appreciate the birds singing, I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, my earth-colored skin, where flowers bloom. I look to my left and I see construction workers, building an apartment building, each of them working hard to give opportunities of a better tomorrow to their families. Many of them will never be able to hug their parents or grandparents again. The day they left was never to return, their footprints marked the path they had to walk, early one morning the dew covered the crop and the roosters crowed to say goodbye.

In that walk all the stories of childhood passed through your mind. You were on your way to meet with a group of people leaving north, that day the coffee did not taste the same, that day the sky was witness to another departure. They told you not to take much, but your grandmother never got that information, she woke early to prepare tortillas to take, the smoke from the fire wrapping you like a farewell hug; she packed that last meal loaded with hope. The neighbors said goodbye Tachajil awi, you will no longer be part of Tachajil awi the plantation this year. Your mother gave you a blessing and with tears in her eyes and a broken heart, wishing you a good trip and knowing the Yuum K’aaxo’ob protects you. You leave. You get on a truck, the next stop is uncertain, it is uncomfortable, it is hot and there is barely any water or space. Above all there is a smell of fading earth, as the hours pass and the mountains of your village become distant, everything is more real, you are going north. After several hours you remember that backpack and take out the meal, which will fill your stomach but also your heart. The backpack is heavy because you realize that it is loaded with dreams, but above all it is loaded with sorrows, anguish and fear. Suddenly in the crowd you notice there is a child watching you. You not only share a smile but food as well. The main ingredient is resilience because your grandmother, who is a widow, suffered from the internal war that lasted 36 years, a war that was called the Mayan Holocaust.

It is getting dark, the air is cold, while dozing off in the middle of the desert. You remember that your family had to sell their few possessions, your mother’s wedding hüipil and your grandmother’s precious silver necklace, they sold that so you could undertake this journey, and in this way become a weather vane that can change the course of the ship. You have to get there no matter how you have to get there, because the remittance will pay for the trip and you will finally be able to buy that stove for your mother. How she wishes she could keep cooking like her mom over an open fire, but she does not have the time now that she works for a salary that is barely enough to pay the rent.

Years have passed and that story has been forgotten, traditions live in your heart and grandma is no longer around. Now you go back to work, strapping on your toolbelt ready to finish the day’s work. It is extremely hot. Something the occupants may not notice as the apartments will be air-conditioned once your work is complete. I keep walking and I see day laborers, it is lunch time. There is nothing close to provide them with shade, they eat their lunch from their van to get a break from the sun. A quick lunch and silent talk. They have to make a better life for their children, now they have a house and don’t have to share the same room made out of corrugated steel.

Days pass and I call my friend to find out how she is doing in the suburbs of Los Angeles, they are living in fear. They do not want to go out even to the supermarket, their children are locked in an apartment in the middle of the summer, she says this is worse than the pandemic. She tells me to please use my privilege to share her story. She lost her husband two years ago, she came when she was young and has no papers because the system did not work for her. A system that has left her in this undocumented status even after both her husband and mother were granted legal status. She asks, “what happens if they deport me when my children are in school, who will cook dinner for them that night?” These stories are of people that are working in a country that has benefited economically from immigrants, illegal, legal, and all the different stages in between.

Our government set up these systems to benefit many sectors in the United States and now the very same people who have worked are being punished for supporting those systems.

My story begins in this country 20 years ago, when after graduating from college I was traveling and met the person who would become my husband. We got married 18 years ago, after moving to the US, I received a box full of souvenirs, some junk, and a clay pot, which has drained after I emigrated leaving my family, friends and a country full of esotericism, history, and a culture that pulsated in my heart. I was now in a foreign country with a culture I did not understand. After trying to fill this vessel with tears and longing, in human connections, I found empathy and new stories of resilience. In the community, I found hope.

My work with the Latino community began two years ago with Irene Vilar the founder of AFC+A. Providing opportunities for access to open space, forest bathing, and cultural events to communities that have historically and systematically been discriminated against. It has been a world-wind of change where I could see my actions directly affecting the lives of many people.

Unfortunately, after the election everything changed for the worst. Our DEI (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) programs were presented in a way that made it look like we were doing something illegal or bad. Our funding was withheld and we have only been able to hold a few events this year. These programs are used to create community, understanding and create safe spaces where families can find peace and hope, but these spaces are shrinking daily.

When raids began in one county in Denver, 50% of the children in that county did not attend school for several days. The stories are nuanced, and this generational anxiety over federal immigration detentions and policies rooted in fear and exclusion has gripped thousands of immigrant residents and led many to limit the time they spend in public. In a divided times leading with compassion and respect, is how we can heal and grow together. Check on your immigrant community, help create an emergency preparedness plan, and use your voice, and privilege. You can learn more on Latino Outdoor’s Know Your Rights Resource page.

“Immigrants are a backbone, yet they’re being targeted and mistreated. This isn’t just wrong, it’s unacceptable. Our community deserves respect, dignity, and protection”. -Casa de Paz

Reforma Migratoria

Partiendo de la premisa

De que el pueblo inmigrante es la leva-brazo impresindible

De esta colosal máquina

Denominada Estados Unidos

Esta desesperanza tiene más de tres décadas

De ingerir el mismo caldo de cultivo

Charola con falacias de ambos partidos

Además del trato de indole tercermundista

No más seudopromesas

Ya basta de convertirnos en trampolín político

De retóricas trilladas estamos hasta el hartazgo

Por eso y muchas cosas

más

Nos encontramos en pie de lucha.

Urge reforma migratoria

Comprensiba, inclusiva, humana e imparcial.

– J.M. Patraca

Books recommendations:

  • A Magnificently Ordinary Romance: A Poetry Collection. – Celia Martinez.
  • Serving the Underserved: Strategies for Inclusive Community Engagement. – Dr. Catharine Bomhold
  • IMMIGRANT: I am a Mayan Q’anjob’al, a Guatemalan, an immigrant, a son, a brother, a husband, a father, and a tech entrepreneur: my ancestry roots are my strength, and my people’s history my testimony. -Marcos Antil.
  • Say the Right Thing: How to Talk About Identity, Diversity, and Justice. – Kenji Yoshino , David Glasgow
  • La distancia entre nosotros. -Reyna Grande.
  • No somos de aquí. – Jenny Torres Sanchez
  • Stamped. Rendi Racism, Antiracism and You. – Jason Reynolds and Ibram X.
  • The Wind Knows My Name. – Isabel Allende
  • De Pánama a Nueva York: La historia de Jacquelina. – Jacqueline Atkins

This Salvadoran-American Woman Rock Climbs to Combat Parkinson’s

por Clare Bennett

When my mom Teresa was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, rock climbing wasn’t on her radar as a potential intervention. She’d been dealing with mysterious symptoms for nearly a decade at that point — tremors, a stiff left hand, migraines, a dragging left foot. The Parkinson’s diagnosis hit hard. But Teresa doesn’t give up. When her doctor’s office shared a podcast episode about rock climbing for people with Parkinson’s, it planted a seed.

Rock climbing? For someone whose hands shake and who struggles with balance? The more we learned, the more rock climbing made sense for someone living with Parkinson’s. Using harnesses and rope systems keep climbers safe. The problem-solving on each route, big movements, and strength-building could help slow the progression of Parkinson’s symptoms. For Mother’s Day 2021, we gave Teresa some climbing lessons at local climbing gym SportRock with instructor Molly Donelan-Cupka.

Molly had been running a regular climbing meetup for people with Parkinson’s for years. Teresa’s first lesson started on a short, 25-foot wall, and her nerves were high. But by the end of that session, she was tackling a 40-foot wall. She was hooked. The improvements started to shine through fairly immediately. Teresa’s left hand, once stuck in a cupped position, relaxed and got stronger. Her tremors became less noticeable. No more dragging her left foot — she’s walking with confident, big steps again. Teresa’s doctor had been planning to increase her medication, but after seeing how much better her symptoms were from climbing, he decided to wait.

“Before rock climbing, I used to be very scared about my future with Parkinson’s, and now I don’t think about it as much,” Teresa said. “As long as I can rock climb, I will be fine.”

Teresa’s experience is not only inspiring, it’s evidence of how beneficial movement can be in combating disease. “Before rock climbing, I used to be very scared about my future with Parkinson’s, and now I don’t think about it as much,” Teresa said. “As long as I can rock climb, I will be fine.” Teresa joined Molly’s group of climbers with Parkinson’s who meet multiple times a week. Some are in their 80s, some are new parents in their 40s. Some use wheelchairs. All are determined climbers who’ve become a wonderful community. And when Teresa competed in USA Climbing’s Para Climbing Nationals, they were there cheering her on.

The climbing community Teresa found goes beyond recreation. They’re proving that adaptive sports can be challenging, competitive, and transformative. Molly has since formalized the group into a nonprofit called Up Ending Parkinsons, providing climbing for people with Parkinson’s across the country. They even climb outdoors! Four years later, Teresa continues to climb multiple times a week. She’s added swimming and Pilates as cross-training.

This story raises something important about who gets to recreate outdoors. Often, when people think about rock climbing, they picture young people who certainly don’t have Parkinson’s symptoms. But the outdoors are for everyone. Helping people to get moving and get outside can bring healing, community, and adventure — even if it looks different than what’s more commonly portrayed in popular media. When we make outdoor spaces more welcoming, we discover more possibilities for entire communities.

The Voices of the Rio Grande: Reclaiming Connection to the Outdoors on the Border

Por Marisol Vazquez

For many, “outdoor recreation” flashes images of someone hiking in national parks, camping under the stars, or backpacking through forests. But in South Texas, “outdoor recreation” can mean fishing, hunting, or carne asada. For those of us living on the border along the Rio Grande—especially in cities like Laredo, Texas—our connection to the outdoors looks different, but it’s no less real or meaningful.

Growing up here, the river wasn’t just scenery—it was survival. It’s our primary water source, a sacred space, and the heartbeat of our community. The outdoors to us means walking along dusty roads, fishing with uncles on the weekend, or gathering under mesquite trees for that stretch past sunset. We engage with the land through necessity, tradition, and love. Nature here isn’t always green or gentle—but it’s alive and deeply interwoven with who we are.

My personal connection to the outdoors wasn’t inspired by nature documentaries or summer camps. It was because I saw the importance of protecting and conserving the Rio Grande to ensure Laredo is habitable for future generations.

Outdoor engagement must be redefined to include experiences like ours—those rooted in survival, stewardship, and everyday life. We may not have high mountains or tall pine trees, but we have ritual, respect, and history on this land. The outdoors should welcome all forms of connection, especially those that have been ignored or undervalued.

Unfortunately, access to nature along the border comes with barriers. Militarization, pollution, and limited green space often make the outdoors feel like a restricted zone. The river that nurtures us is also guarded by checkpoints and fencing. There’s fear—of surveillance, of displacement, of contamination. Even public parks feel political when you grow up in a place where your backyard is a border.

Still, we find ways to reclaim it. That’s why it’s so important to create an outdoor movement that sees and values diverse experiences. The more we include people like us—who may not look like the “outdoorsy” stereotype—the more we restore justice to our relationship with the land. The Rio Grande reminds us that nature isn’t just out there. It’s here, at home, and it deserves our protection and belonging.

Marisol Vazquez is a recent graduate from Texas A&M International University, where she majored in biology. She aspires to ignite a passion for the outdoors in her community by advocacy, education, and outdoor activities like kayaking, bird watching, and hiking. Marisol’s outdoor adventures began in California, where she learned to kayak and rock climb and gained a love and appreciation for nature.