SF FOGHORN issue 6_F (3)

EST. 1903SF FOGHORN
03
SFFOGHORN.COM
FOGPOD
NEWS SCENE OPINION SPORTS
A majority Latine and Black
coalition of unhoused
residents sue San Francisco.
'Family run, family owned,
best tortillas in town'
You'll want everything on the menu at La Palma. PHOTO BY ZOE BINDER/FOGHORN
TALEAH JOHNSON
Staff Writer
@SFFOGHORN
I have an awful sense of direction but even I couldn't miss the
enticing smell of “La Palma Mexicatessen.” Nestled on the corner
of Florida Street and 24 Street, La Palma has been serving Mission
residents since 1953. La Palma’s mission statement is a direct promise
to the community that its food will remain affordable and high
quality for their customers. “Our mission is to continue to provide
the healthiest, freshest Latin food to serve our community.”
La Palma's promise of affordable, fresh food called out to everyone
and their mothers — the store was packed. The staff kindly
and swiftly flipped from Spanish to English to help each customer.
Despite their best efforts, they were too busy to comment — and the
first bite of my burrito made me admire their hard work even more.
THE UNIVERSITY OF SAN FRANCISCO
THURSDAY, OCT. 13, 2022 • VOL. 120, ISSUE 6
SFMOMA Exhibit
Latine culture needs
07 highlights '80s activism 08 support from USF, not 12
in Mission District.
just its students.
La Palma has two registers: one to ring up various ingredients
and to-go goods, and another at the very back of the restaurant to
purchase hot meals. In the center of the restaurant is a barrel of
packaged tamale husks, next to shelves full of canned beans, jars of
pickled vegetables, tortillas, and an assortment of ingredients for
customers to make their own dishes.
To fit the spooky season, two plastic skeletons are perched on
the corners of the shelves greeting customers as they step inside.
Alongside the east wall of the restaurant are rows of refrigerators
stocked with salsas, guacamoles, cheeses, and a rainbow of agua
frescas. On the very bottom of the refrigerators are plastic containers
of flan, jello, and pastries adorned with frosted roses. It’s a tight
squeeze between the refrigerator and the goods sold in the center so
customers weave around the store, standing in single-file lines.
CONTINUED ON PAGE 06
Dons striker Dereck
Valentine reflects on Costa
Rican heritage and his
adjustment to USF.

02
THURSDAY
OCT. 13,
2022
SAN FRANCISCO
FOGHORN
Freedom and Fairness
STAFF EDITORIAL:
HISPANIC, LATINO/A, LATINX, OR LATINE?
LARGELY LATINE AND BLACK COALITION OF
UNHOUSED PEOPLE SUE SAN FRANCISCO
03
STAFF
SUBMISSION POLICY
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Editor in Chief
ZOE BINDER
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MEGAN ROBERTSON
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An estimated 62.6 million Hispanics live in
the U.S. today, accounting for 19% of the nation’s
population. Yet, there are debates around what
terminology should be used to identify this population,
and whether we should have an umbrella
term to identify them at all. Commonly accepted
terms right now include Hispanic and various
forms of Latin-o/x/e — but how do you properly
refer to a demographic that spans so many countries
and covers so many people?
Coined in the ‘80s by the Census Bureau,
the gender-neutral term “Hispanic” refers to
Americans of Spanish-speaking descent. But because
the definition is based on language, it leaves
out Indigenous communities whose ancestors did
not speak Spanish, and Brazilians are excluded
because their official language is Portuguese.
In the early ‘90s, Northwestern University
sociology professor Felix Padilla coined the
term, “Latinidad” while studying the cross-over
in Chicago’s Puerto Rican and Mexican experiences.
Since then, Latinidad has been viewed as
a pan-ethnic identity and movement that encompasses
the experiences of Latin Americans living
in the U.S. Stemming from Latinidad, the U.S.
has since used “Latino” in multiple censuses.
Latino, as a male noun, has a feminine
counterpart Latina as a noun — but what about
people who do not identify in the gender binary?
Latinx has been suggested as a mediator, but 2020
Pew research reported that less than a quarter of
Hispanic Americans were familiar with the term.
Because Spanish is a gendered language, nouns
are assigned masculine or feminine articles and
gender influences grammar. This makes it difficult
to have a gender neutral term that still works
in a gender-focused language. The “x” at the end
of the word is also not pronounceable in Spanish.
Enter “Latine.” The “e” in Latine is gender
neutral and is an ending commonly used in
Spanish, reflecting the regular vocabulary used
by LGBTQI+ folks in Latin America.
For example, rather than saying,
Latine, Latinx, or Latino/a? Latine,
“hola amigos” one could say, “hola
amigues” without changing the
Latinx,
sound of the language.
On our campus, the term Latine
or
is common in academic sources and Latino/a?
among students. Isabella Flores, the
or
president of Latinas Unidas, said “I
like to use Latine as Latinx is more
‘English,’ like the x isn’t really used in
Spanish to indicate gender neutralness.”
Latinx,
Latino/a?
The Washington Post’s Samantha
Chery said that more young
Latine,
Latine,
adults are looking for a term that is
inclusive as gender neutrality is normalized.
“Linguistic purists may
Latinx,
decry the newer terms as Americanized
bastardizations of Latino culture
or
Latino/a?
but no ‘right’ term exists as language
evolves,” she said.
or
The contention that exists over
Latinidad, and its various forms, naturally
extend to and shape the discourse
on the identity debate itself.
Latinx,
Latino/a?
Latine, Latino/a? or Latinx, Latine,
Historically in the U.S., Latinidad as
a movement and identity was forged from the oppression
of those of Latin American descent such
as Jim Crow laws, which targeted Latine people
directly, and the lynchings of Mexicans in Texas.
In this context, Latinidad became a point of solidarity
for a community struggling to find footing
in a new country.
However the experience to make it in the
U.S. differs according to race, documentation
status, disability status, class, sexuality and gender.
In recent years, pushback on Latinidad has
come from Afro-Latine, Indigenous-Latine and
Afro-Indigenous-Latine academics and activists.
To the Nation, Rosa Clemente, a Black-Puerto
Rican academic and former presidential candidate,
said, “what happens when you subscribe to
the idea of a single Latinidad narrative is you create
a monolith — culturally and politically — of
an entire continuent when every single community
has their own history.”
In an interview with Remezcla, Zapotec
academic and cultural critic, Dr. Alan Pelaez
Lopez said that Latinidad could “transform not
only Latin American people but the world,” if it
addressed anti-blackness, sexism, and homophobia
and prioritized inclusivity. “But right now, it
seems that Latinidad is to be accepted by white
United Statians,” they said.
Latine people are not a monolithic group,
and since language evolves over time there may
never be a singular word that can encapsulate a
massive demographic. In recent years the Census
Bureau has announced the potential of a 2030
census which would detail both the race and
ethnicity of Latine folks in the U.S. — a solution
inching towards the specificity Clemente
and Pelaez-Lopez advocated for. Until then, the
term Latine will serve to create space for all Latine
folks, especially those who were once excluded by
the “Hispanic” identity label.
GRAPHIC BY MARIAN DIAKITE/GRAPHICS CENTER
MEGAN ROBERTSON
Staff Writer
Teresa Sandoval was sleeping on the corner of 13th and Mission Street one evening
in June when she was awoken by city officials demanding that she move. A double
amputee, the Latine and Indiginous woman was moving slowly in a wheelchair. The
Department of Public Health workers seized her purse, her tent, and her prosthetics,
which she then saw being thrown into a dump truck.
This was not a new occurrence for Sandoval. In her time living unhoused over the
past several years, she noted that city officials have regularly harassed her, often saying
things like, “I’m going to detain you if you don’t move.” She has been given “movealong
orders,” which are forced removals of homeless encampments. Unhoused people
are subject to arrest or detention if they do not follow demands. After being served
these orders, Sandoval was not offered shelter or supportive services.
Sandoval is one of seven unhoused plaintiffs whose stories came to light in a Sept.
27 complaint suing the City and County of San Francisco. Attorneys for the Lawyers'
Committee for Civil Rights of the San Francisco Bay Area and the ACLU of Northern
California have filed suit on behalf of these seven unhoused people, along with the San
Francisco Coalition on Homelessness.
Defendants in the lawsuit also include the San Francisco Police Department,
the Department of Public Works, the Department of Homelessness and Supportive
Housing, the San Francisco Fire Department, the Department of Emergency Management,
Healthy Streets and Operations Center Director Sam Dodge, and Mayor
London Breed.
The lawsuit finds that the perpetual nature of these sweeps, paired with a lack of
shelter for unhoused people, violates a number of laws, primarily the Eighth Amendment
and the California constitution’s prohibition on cruel and unusual punishment.
The suit claims that, “the City has embarked on a campaign of driving its unsheltered
residents out of town — or at least out of sight — in violation of their constitutional
rights.”
In an interview with the Foghorn, Zal Shroff, a senior attorney with the Lawyers'
Committee and one of the lead lawyers in this lawsuit, said, “the city can say that it's
ending homelessness when all it's doing is kicking the can down the road, harassing
people, which only furthers their homelessness.”
While the City could not comment on the lawsuit specifically, in a statement to
the Foghorn, Emily Cohen, Deputy Director for Communications & Legislative Affairs
in the City’s Department of Homelessness and Supportive Housing, said that San
Francisco has been working on increasing shelter spaces for unhoused people.
“Since June 2020 the City has expanded permanent supportive housing units by
nearly 3,000 new units (leases, acquisitions or new tenant-based subsidies). The City
shelter system has expanded to a capacity of 3,068 beds for adults, TAY [Traditional
Aged Youth] and families,” she said.
The plaintiffs do not find this expansion sufficient. The lawsuit says that approximately
8,000 residents are unhoused, leaving nearly 5,000 without city shelter.
Considering that five out of the seven unhoused plaintiffs are Latine and Black,
racial discrimination is one of the pillars of the plaintiffs’ argument. They claim that
the city’s homelessness problem is “rooted in decades of racial redlining and exclusionary
zoning practices, designed to kick low-income Black and brown families out.”
California has the highest population of unhoused people in the country, according
to data from the United States Interagency Council on Homelessness. A new
report from the Department of Homelessness and Supportive Housing found that
homelessness in San Francisco Latine populations has increased by 55% since 2019
alone.
The same report showed that this year, while Latine people make up 16% of
the city population, they make up 30% of the homeless population. Similarly, Black
people make up 6% of the city’s population but 37% of those on the streets, according
to Shroff.
“The criminalization of homelessness is a racial justice issue,” he said. “San Francisco
has a history of racialized exclusion. It has been on a process of making its communities
whiter for quite some time with its target housing policies.”
The current gentrification of historically Latine neighborhoods, paired with job
loss due to the COVID-19 pandemic, has resulted in many more people living on the
streets.
“The homelessness crisis is an affordability crisis and housing crisis. There are
heavy racial injustices that are playing into those dynamics that the city has to resolve,”
Shroff said. “San Francisco is waging a war on communities of color.”
A San Francisco Public Health employee throws away items from a tent encampment by the Ferry
Building in June. PHOTO COURTESY OF LAWYERS’ COMMITTEE FOR CIVIL RIGHTS OF THE
SAN FRANCISCO BAY AREA
One of the plaintiffs, Toro Castaño, a Latine artist who became unhoused during
the COVID-19 pandemic, found the sweeps to be “a dehumanizing disruption to the
small ounce of stability that I was trying to build for myself during one of the hardest
times of my life.”
The suit reports that the city destroyed Castaño’s MacBook Pro and tent, along
with other belongings. He recently settled a claim against the city for $9,000.
On the Hilltop, this suit has caused community members to reflect on perception,
race, and economic impediments.
For Kemelyn Alvarado, a board member of USF’s Latinx Undergrad Network
of Activists and a third-year politics major, rectifying the mistreatment of Latine unhoused
people is a passion.
“Raiding someone’s place of living is unconstitutional and inhumane,” she said.
“If raids and destruction of property were occurring in any neighborhood, this would
make headlines everywhere. Not only is there a criminalization of the individual because
they are homeless but also because of their Black or brown skin.”
The plaintiffs are filing for declaratory and injunctive relief, which means that
instead of just monetary compensation, they are asking for legal compensation. They
are working to end move-along orders, as failure to move currently threatens citation
and arrest.
“What we hope [the city] will do is invest in affordable housing, because every
dollar that goes to affordable housing is something that prevents people from entering
homelessness in the first place,” Shroff said. “Understandably, no one wants to see
homelessness, but they have categorically failed at the things that actually do respond
to the homelessness crisis, such as new affordable housing.”
For USF community members looking to get involved in advocacy, Shroff suggests
knowing the facts. “The best way to advocate is to arm yourself with the information
you need for the cause. The truth matters a tremendous amount, especially when
there's incentive for power structures to conceal their wrongdoing, shining a light on
that is what is most critical.
“For students who are engaged, they [should] do that work for themselves, to
think critically about these issues,” Shroff said. “Several witnesses in this case, are
organizers or just ordinary volunteers who saw what was going on here, saw that it was
wrong, and thought they needed to do something about it. And that's really powerful.”
NEWS

04 05
THURSDAY
OCT. 13,
2022
USF REFLECTS ON THE CHANGING FACE
OF THE MISSION DISTRICT
BAY AREA ADVOCATES ORGANIZE AGAINST
POLICE KILLING OF SEAN MONTEROSSA
NEWS
MAGGIE ALDRICH
Staff Writer
The Mission District is one of the oldest neighborhoods in San Francisco. It
is known for its flat and sunny streets, authentic art and food scene, and Latine
community. Yet, as San Francisco is becoming one of the most gentrified cities in
the United States, the Mission is seeing the ramifications of these changes.
Gentrification primarily impacts long-term locals in a community due to an
increase in economic progress, a process that helps land owners and hurts tenants.
Because many Bay Area newcomers are ready to pay a price above current rates,
landlords are incentivized to increase rents, pricing out middle and low income
residents of the area.
Daniela Rivas, a USF alum born and raised in the Excelsior District, also
known as the Outer Mission, first came to understand the term in high school.
“My school was right up the block from Valencia Street and I remembered how
dangerous the Mission used to be,” Rivas said. “My [high school] Spanish teacher
told me it’s because of gentrification that all these new cafes and overpriced shops
are on Valencia Street, and I was seeing some shops on 24th closing down.”
The Excelsior District, often described as the “untouched district” by locals
like Rivas, saw a recent influx of tourists, and subsequently, a plethora of “for sale”
signs.
“We just started seeing a whole new crowd,” she said. “The change was very
obvious and it was very slow.”
While interviewing a restaurant owner in the Mission for a research project,
second-year chemistry major Isabella Escutia’s initial view of gentrification
changed. “I was actually able to get a sense of community and how it affected them
with not just new people coming in, but remembering who the older generation
Mural by Precita Mural Arts represents the heritage of the Mission. PHOTO BY ELISE EMARD/SF FOGHORN
was and how it affected them,” she said.
Escutia said that most of the restaurant’s regular customers moved from the
Mission out to Sacramento for affordability. Rivas noticed this change in Excelsior
as well, with many of her mother’s friends moving to the East Bay.
Displacement through gentrification not only occurs at the economic level,
but has led to the loss of lives on the basis of race.
Alejandro Nieto was eating a burrito in Bernal Heights Park when he was
shot 14 times by the police on March 21, 2014. The taser that he carried for his
job as a nightclub bouncer was mistaken as a firearm by white men new to the
neighborhood, who called the police.
“We know that [gentrification] is a violent process. It’s not just about a bunch
of folks moving in and joining a new community, it’s about that happening at the
very painful expense of the displacement of people who have been the fabric of
that community,” said Roberto Gutièrrez Varea, professor of Performing Arts &
Social Justice at USF and former director of the Latin American studies program
and previous co-director of Center for Latino Studies.
As San Francisco becomes a more popular place to live, advocates of affordable
housing are looking for a balance between the demand for housing, affordability,
and that ensures longtime residents housing security. “We’re choosing between
two imperfect solutions. I have yet to see a solution that stops gentrification,
but also allows for economic progress to happen and allows diversity to happen,”
USF Economics professor Mario Muzzi said.
Varea said advocates should look to each other to find solutions and be less
dependent on the government. “Often forces look up at where the problems are
coming from and not down at one another for solidarity, support, creativity, and
solutions,” he said.
#Justice4Sean becomes a Bay Area activist movement. SCREENSHOT COURTESY OF @JUSTICE4SEAN via instagram.
JORDAN DELFIUGO
Staff Writer
A twenty-two year old Latino man, Sean Monterossa, was empty handed and
on his knees when he was fatally shot by a Vallejo, California police officer Jarrett
Tonn in June. The officer, in an unmarked police car, was reportedly responding to
a call regarding potential suspects in an earlier looting at Walgreens that evening.
He fired five rounds at Monterrosa, claiming that Monterrosa was kneeling “in
preparation to shoot.”
The officer who shot Monterossa was put on leave in May 2021, almost a full
year after the incident, and as of October, has officially been terminated from the
department. The Vallejo Police Department (VPD) cannot publicly identify the
offending officer due to the verdict of a related lawsuit brought about by the Vallejo
Police Officers’ Association.
Despite a department-funded investigation revealing several tactical violations
in Monterossa’s case, including the officer’s failure to turn on his body camera
until the aftermath of the shooting, no arrests have been made.
Monterrosa’s case has sparked outrage throughout the Bay Area and prompted
reflection from Latine students at USF on the state of police brutality. The
Instagram account @justice4sean_ has been one popular resource for advocates
of Monterrosa with 20,000 people following the account for updates on Monterrosa’s
case.
These activists created a website with compiled resources related to the case,
including a link to the Stand With Sean petition that calls on the VPD to release
the badge bending reports, cases in which Vallejo officers allegedly bent their
badges after shooting victims. It also calls to the public and for Vallejo City Council
members to vote in favor of the Police Oversight Model, a proposed system in
which designated individuals who are unaffiliated with the police routinely review
complaints or concerns against the department or officers.
What happened to Monterrosa is not an isolated incident in the VPD. In
2020, KTVU Bay Area News revealed that since 2010, the VPD has killed 19
people, a rate that is higher than all but one of America’s hundred largest police
forces. Additionally, according to NBC, the VPD has the highest rate of residents
shot per capita in Northern California. According to research conducted by Campaign
Zero, the department also uses more force than any other department in
California.
Monterossa’s case speaks to more pervasive issues of police bias against Latine
people in the Bay Area. An analysis conducted by CalMatters found that between
2016 and 2018, Californian Latine people made up 46% of fatal police shootings
despite only making up 39% of the population.
Michael Alvarez, a Latine first-year marketing major, weighed in on the issue.
“Because San Francisco and USF are both so diverse, there have been times where I
have found myself falling into a dangerous mentality of ‘this [police bias] doesn’t
happen here, it happens in other places, to other people,’” he said.
“Even in a city where I see my culture all over the place, where it's prominent
and celebrated, the truth is that police violence will always be a very real, looming
threat for people who look like me.”
Upon hearing the news that the officer who killed Monterrosa was fired, Alvarez
said, “It’s a victory, I won’t sell it short, but it almost feels like too little too
late. They have been sitting on proof of this happening for two years and still no
one has been charged? Really?”
Second-year psychology major Serena Martins said that she was shocked by
the lack of mainstream media coverage on Monterrosa’s case. “What happened to
Sean felt like it was rarely discussed unless in a greater conversation about police
brutality,” she said, “What happened to him was never the center of attention.
There’s a pattern when it comes to Latino victims of police violence, it’s never
talked about, it’s almost expected.”
NEWS

06
THURSDAY
OCT. 13,
2022
SCENE
CONTINUED FROM FRONT PAGE
To the right of the entrance is a service window
for people to grab their takeout orders. Customers were
scattered around the restaurant's entrance, waiting for
their order numbers to be called from a small service
window.
This is where I caught Hugo, a long-time customer,
loading up his car with various bags of food. Hugo
estimated that he has eaten at La Palma for the last two
decades. Hugo keeps coming back for the restaurant's
“authentic traditional Mexican food, good service,
good people,” he said. “Family run, family owned, best
tortillas in town.”
La Palma is known for their fresh masa, a cornmeal
based dough. According to their website, the restaurant
makes their masa daily with dried, GMO (genetically
modified organism) free corn used to make tamales,
tortillas, and a variety of other dishes. The restaurant
produces a myriad of masa, most notably white corn,
blue corn, and cactus. La Palma also makes strawberry
and cinnamon masa for dessert tamales.
Although most customers decided to opt for takeout,
father-son duo Tom and Henry enjoyed an early
lunch on the restaurant’s side patio. Tom has been
coming to La Palma for over 15 years and absolutely
loves it, “Gosh, just everything, especially the chips and
salsa. All the little side things you can get here are so
wonderful.” Tom explained all the dishes they bought
while Henry sat patiently. “I got the chili verde burrito
today, he gets a bean and cheese — plain. We also
picked up a bit of this thing, it's called carne de cerdo
chicharrones.” Tom suggested getting the refried beans
and Henry likes the chicharrones and drinks.
Like Tom and Henry, I will be back for more.
La Palma's selection of housemade to-go items. PHOTO BY ELISE EMARD/
SF FOGHORN
Delicious potato taco from La Palma. PHOTO BY
ELISE EMARD/SF FOGHORN
Acción Latina:
Matter in the Mission
ANIJAH MCLAURIN
ContributingWriter
The ‘80s
With walls adorned with vibrant murals and the rich scent
of Latine food, San Francisco’s Mission District is a celebration of
Latine history and culture. However, the people who laid the foundation
of today’s Mission are often overlooked. The latest SFMO-
MA art installation by Acción Latina, “The ‘80s Matter in the Mission,''
was celebrated at its opening event just in time for the end
of National Hispanic Heritage Month. The exhibit honors Latine
artists and organizers who advocated during the AIDS epidemic
and the immigration of Central American refugees to the Mission.
Most notably, the exhibit pays homage to queer Latine artist
and advocate, Juan Pablo Gutiérrez Sánchez, who passed away
last December. Dedicated to bettering the lives of Latine immigrants
and queer Latine folks, Gutiérrez pushed for AIDS education,
served as one of the first gay directors of the Mission Cultural
Center, and made sure Día de los Muertos was celebrated in San
Francisco.
Guitierrez’s life was honored through a mural by Mexican-American
artist Elizabeth Blancas that was the focal point of
the exhibit. Blancas’ mural, “Nuestros Muertos No Se Venden,” or,
Our Dead Are Not for Sale, is a nod to Guitierrez’s motto speaking
to parties trying to profit off of Día de los Muertos.
One of the event's curators and speakers, Paul S. Flores was
overjoyed to “make the past come to life through art.” Flores, who is
a Latine advocate, poet, and professor at USF, hopes for viewers to
not only remember the past, but to, “listen to it. Watch it. Experience
the visual memories and the voices of the time.”
When they weren’t looking at art, viewers dug deep into the
archives of California’s longest running bilingual newspaper, El
Tecolote. Co-curator Fátima Ramirez, executive director at Acción
Latina and former Foghorn news editor, wanted people to immerse
themselves in and experience all aspects of the Mission in the ‘80s
through the newspapers from the time.
El Grupo Maiz delighted the crowd with an El Salvadorian
Baile Folklórico performance halfway through the event and audience
members danced, sang, and clapped along.
Viewer Isabel Raskin was moved by the presence of culture and
solidarity at the event. “I just love seeing so much energy, spirit, and
a sense of community and support.”
Another audience member, Christos Eugen said he felt, “sadness
and happiness because we’re trying to remember all what happened
to all the Latinos during the ‘80s and ‘90s in the Mission and
in the whole San Francisco.”
Muralist Josué Rojas made two pieces that hug the book shelves
and play on his Central American heritage as a child growing up in
the Mission. His piece “Mission Pie” is a personal recollection of the
neighborhood in the 1980s. Tanya Orellana’s neon and vinyl print
installation “19th & Valencia” is inspired by her childhood memories
of growing up near the Mission Playground Pool and when the
Lexington Club transitioned from a Latine bar to a lesbian stronghold
in the Mission.
“It’s important to know our history and to remember the people
who gave a lot of effort to change the political and social realities
in our neighborhood and community,” said Flores.
The exhibit will be featured at the SFMOMA through June
23, 2023.
Jordan Premmer contributed to the reporting of this story.
07
SCENE
Grupo Maíz presents Baile Folklorico from El Salvador. PHOTO COURTESY OF NICK DERENZI

08 09
THURSDAY
OCT. 13,
2022
LOVE LETTER TO TIJUANA
OPINION
ISABELLA FLORES
is a second-year
advertising major.
LATINE STUDENTS WANT MORE
SUPPORT FROM USF
As a Latine student in higher education I feel
invisible most of the time. Even with USF’s diversity,
it’s hard to see myself represented in guest
speakers, professors, and peers. Imposter syndrome
is a familiar enemy that I face on a daily
basis: when I look at the people around me, when
an unfamiliar idiom is used in class, and even
in my leadership role at Latinas Unidas where
I sometimes feel like I’m not “Latina enough.”
The one thing that has helped me through these
struggles is joining a Latine organization where
I can share these experiences with others who
know exactly what I am going through.
Although the Latine population makes up
21% of both the graduate and undergraduate
student population at USF, I believe that we are
one of the most underrepresented and underserved
communities here on the Hilltop. Declining
retention rates, staggered club enrollment,
and conversations with friends tells me that it isn’t just me who feels invisible
to the institution.
Isaac Madrigal, a fourth-year design major said he sees a lack of USF
bridge programs — programs created to support Latine students transitioning
into academic and professional life. “It’s important for that to be here because
our people don’t have a long history of going to higher institutions nor family
members who can help guide them through that,” he said. “So it feels like
we’re on our own.”
USF is not currently a Hispanic-Serving Institution (HSI). To qualify to
be an HSI, the Latine student population must be at 25%, which USF falls
GRAPHIC BY LEO TAFOYA/GRAPHICS CENTER
just short of. According to the U.S. Department of Education, qualifying as a
HSI would grant USF funding to strengthen institutional programs, facilities,
and services for the Latine community on campus. USF currently lacks the
funding to provide consistent support to Latine students; although they try —
mostly during National Hispanic Heritage Month.
Latine students attend school year round, so who supports us once Hispanic
Heritage Month concludes? The success of the Latine student population
weighs heavily on the leaders of USF’s Latine oriented clubs: Latinas Unidas,
Latinx Undergraduate Network of Activists (L.U.N.A), and USF Folklórico
Club. As the President of Latinas Unidas, I feel the weight of my work for the
organization in everything I do. I fear that if we as an organization don’t keep
momentum and consistency, there would be no support systems for Latine
students to feel safe, succeed, and be seen.
USF Folklórico club Vice President and sophomore politics major, Lidia
Velasco-Robles has had similar thoughts. “Our work shows our perseverance
and how much we care. But, if it wasn't for us, I don’t think the change we
have made would have happened,” she said. “It makes me proud of how resilient
we are, but it's annoying to think that if we weren't the way we are we
wouldn't have gotten this far.”
Students aren’t the only one’s worried about the University’s lack of support.
Graduate Student Coordinator for New Student and Family Programs,
Valeria Ramirez said she’s afraid the energy that student organizations are
generating now won’t be permanently put in place by the University, “I worry
that USF will continually fail to recognize the necessity of providing this
support and care towards our Latinx/Chicanx/Hispanic student community.”
It was this common sentiment among my community and the lack of
institutional events here on campus that drove me to put my all into throwing
a successful Latinx Heritage Celebration. Last month, Latinas Unidas and
L.U.N.A invited students, faculty, staff, and families to attend our celebration
of cultural food, inspiring Latine speakers, dancing,
crafts, vendors, and games. Over the course of
two months, our two organizations were completely
responsible for planning and executing the event
— a huge job coupled with full course loads, jobs,
and extracurriculars.
Student organizations and cultural events are
so incredibly important — more than non-minority
people might realize. It is not just a Bad Bunny
song or a dance party, but a place to connect back
to our roots, to celebrate our culture, to feel like
we’re home again and feel confident in the new
home we’ve created at USF. Cultural events are a
space to feel seen, celebrated, and valued.
Although you can always count on students
to provide for their community, it is not entirely
fair that on top of striving towards our degrees, we
have to worry about maintaining these spaces. As
Madrigal put it, “We shouldn’t always be fighting.
We should be able to enjoy ourselves like everyone
else.”
The Latine community is incredibly resilient
— and if there’s two things we’re gonna do, it's
work-hard and persevere. Está en nuestra sangre. I
hope that our efforts encourage the next leaders of
the Latine organizations to continue the change.
Until then, I want USF to recognize our significance
with action that will solidify the change
student organizations are making. I would love for
students to be allowed to cater from community
restaurants that can prepare cultural foods for our
events, rather than being forced to order from Bon
Appétit. USF should also continue to increase the
budget for the New Student Family Programs department’s
Latinx Student Orientation and should
work to highlight and hire more Latine staff. These
small, but significant actions would simultaneously
benefit USF and the Latine community here on the
Hilltop.
SOFIA CHAVEZ is a
fourth-year international
studies major.
A couple of days ago I called my mom to
tell her how I was going to write an op-ed for
the Foghorn about how proud I am to be from
Tijuana, Mexico. I consider myself extremely
lucky to be from Tijuana. There's a vibrant
music and art scene and my friends and I orchestrate
jam sessions and art exhibitions. Tijuana
has, in my opinion, the best cuisine in the
world, and without a doubt the best tacos in the
country. The people are so warm and open. I
wanted to write about the beauty of being Mexican,
but something my mom said brought me
back to reality.
“Oh, speaking of [home], there was a
shooting yesterday at the Clamatos. Yeah,
a couple was shot at 2:30 p.m. in a drive-by
shooting,” she said. The Clamatos is a bar in an
affluent neighborhood only a five-minute drive
from my house. Usually, when I drive by, I honk
at friends sitting at the bar and wave. Two people died there this week.
This didn’t even make the news. Crime
used to be contained to some neighborhoods
I’ve never even been to, but recently it has
seeped farther into my home city and it has
become impossible to ignore. Just before I
came to San Francisco this fall, I was buying
beer and chips with a friend when she
received a desperate call from her mother
telling her to return home immediately
and lock the doors. We were shocked but
didn’t question it. Later, my mom told me
that there had been an explosion across the
street. Tijuana had become a war zone.
An important narco, or drug trafficker,
had been detained by the police and they
were not accepting bribes to let him out.
Because of this, organized crime blazed
through major cities across Mexico to put
pressure on the government to release their
leader. This meant bombings, fires, carjackings,
and assaults. People were advised
to stay inside all weekend while the narcos
went to town on our homes. Businesses
were closed and the streets were desolate
in eerie resemblance to the first days of the
COVID-19 lockdown in 2020.
I escaped to San Francisco a few days
later, grateful to be aways from the mess, but
worried for those I love back home.
Tijuana is the most dangerous city in
the world. According to Salvador Rivera
from Border Report, the presence of three
drug cartels vying for power in the region,
as well as Tijuana’s proximity to California,
creates a high murder rate. In August alone,
the Drug Enforcement administration reported
more than 120 murders or supicious
homicides in the city.
Two weeks ago, a longtime employee of
my father’s was murdered in his home along
with his family. Local newspaper TJNoticias
explains that he was murdered because
he reported criminal activity to the police.
When I heard the news I was shattered, but
a part of me was so relieved to be in San
Francisco. I was safe here and there’s a special
type of guilt that comes with that.
I’ve bragged to my Tijuana friends that
here, I am able to walk the streets without
GRAPHIC BY LEO TAFOYA/GRAPHICS CENTER
being scared, even at night (which took me a while to do when I first moved
here). San Francisco is not the safest city in the U.S., by a wide margin, but
the weight I feel lifted off of my shoulders speaks volumes.
Both of my siblings and I moved to the U.S. for college, as our parents
encouraged us to. We also crossed the border every day to go to private
schools in San Diego. According to USMex at UCSD, 21% of ninth and
10th grade students in San Diego have lived and studied and Mexico before
and, on the flip side, 11% of ninth and 10th grade students in Tijuana have
have lived in the U.S. Like many others, my parents gave us the gift of being
Mexican, of learning Spanish as our first language, and of growing up
surrounded by family — but they understood that staying in Tijuana and
building a life there like they did is not worth our peace, or our lives for that
matter.
Today we are scattered across California but we ache for home. Home
will always be Mexico and I am so grateful for that. But, the fact that violence
is intrinsic in our lives and knowing that I can never be at peace there
is heartbreaking.
In Tijuana, we live well and we love each other deeply. We move on fast
and we mourn our losses with dignity. Tijuana is so beautiful and so broken,
it hurts to love it, but we do. We can’t help it.
OPINION

10 11
THURSDAY
OCT. 13,
2022
OPINION
WHY MENTAL HEALTH MATTERS IN LATINE
FAMILIES AND COMMUNITIES
KAYLEE CIBRIAN is a
third-year communications
major.
“Heche la ganas” is a widely used phrase in the
Latine community. It asks people to put more life
into whatever they are doing — even if they would
rather be doing anything else — and usually comes
from elders giving advice to younger Latine folks.
While my parents say, “we all have to do things we
do not want to do,” it is more important than ever to
remind younger generations in the Latine community
to take care of themselves and to avoid pushing
their mental health beyond their limits.
From my own experiences and the experiences
of people in my family, I have seen how mental health
is more important to younger generations than older
generations: from prioritizing self-care to not feeling
the need to be silent about their struggles, and
normalizing asking for help. Yet, as we see pushback
from older generations, we need to acknowledge the
challenges of stigma, cultural norms, and the gendered
roles Latine communities face when dealing
with mental health. In light of these factors, the Latine community has all the more
reason to prioritize and understand the importance of mental health.
The culture that has shaped the generations before me has created a stigma
around mental health. In Latine communities, men are often taught not to be
“weak” or overly emotional. Meanwhile, women are deemed too emotional and are
not encouraged to want more for themselves, but at the same time, we are taught
that Latine’s work ethic is all we are meant to pride ourselves in.
Latine’s folks are also affected by the emotional baggage that results from our
communities’ history. To the Los Angeles Times, Dr. Leslie Gonzales explains that
first-generation immigrants experience stress, anxiety, and imposter syndrome. “[I
felt] pressure to make my parents' sacrifices worth it… and it eventually manifested
in anxiety and depression,” she said. As a first-generation student, I feel this deeply
in my day-to-day life. Although my parents never went to college, when I tell them I
feel accomplished at college, all they say is, “well, school is your job.” Comments like
these make me feel an immense amount of pressure to continuously outdo myself
to make them proud.
Statistically speaking, the Latine community displays similar vulnerabilities
to mental illness compared to the general population. But, according to the 2019
National Survey on Drug Use and Health, only about one-third of Hispanic people
experiencing any mental illness receive some sort of mental health treatment,
compared with 50% of non-Hispanic white people. For Latines that do seek out
treatment, disparities are still faced in both access and quality of treatment.
Growing up with these norms, like many Latine youth, I didn't learn how to
care for my mental health until I became an independent adult and found strength
in other people my age. My cousin Jona and I are both first-generation college students
who are learning how to take care of ourselves and overcome generational
trauma within our family. At the beginning of the pandemic, like so many people,
I struggled and felt alone, and my parents didn’t seem to get it. My older cousin, on
the other hand, was able to hear, process, and relate to my feelings. I felt so validated,
a feeling that many Latine youth rarely experience.
My cousin Mia, who is a college student like myself, experiences similar hardships
coping with her mental health. “I think that mental health is often overlooked
within Latino/Hispanic families. It’s not seen as a real issue or condition but rather
something to just get over” she said. “This is why it’s so important for everyone to
stay educated and know that mental health is so important and that it’s best to seek
help rather than just trying to ‘get over it on your own.’”
Despite these struggles and challenges, I am confident when I say that I could
not have made it this far either without my Latine work ethic or understanding the
importance of mental health in my community. If I could talk to myself even just
five years ago, I would tell myself to prioritize my health above everything and that
it is okay to be selfish. It is okay to turn to others.
JOHN PAOLO
Staff Writer
SOUTH AMERICA KICKS OFF
TWO WEEKS OF COMPETITION
The 2022 South American Games are currently underway in Asunción,
Paraguay. Fifteen countries and thousands of athletes are competing in 53
different events this month. Some of the sports included in this two-weeklong
multi-sport event are soccer, basketball, volleyball, field hockey, baseball,
rugby union, tennis, golf, cricket, polo, and more.
Argentina has been crowned as the top medalling nation for seven out of
the 12 South American Games, but is in fourth place so far this year. Brazil
has led the games this year with a total of 178 medals but Colombia is close
behind with 145. Although the total medals are a close race, Brazil gaps the
rest of the competition when it comes to winning gold medals. Brazil’s 80 gold
medals nearly doubles second-place Columbia’s total of 41.
The Brazilian delegation has been successful in the swimming events,
winning 34 gold medals in 40 swimming events. Brazil also won both available
gold medals in artistic swimming. Second-place Columbia has had most
of their success in speed skating. They have won eight out of 10 possible gold
medals in the sport, failing to take first place in only the female 1,000m sprint
and the male 200m one-versus-one event. Colombia has also dominated
diving, winning seven out of eight competitions, and losing only the female
one-meter trampoline dive. The most notable diving performance came from
Colombia’s Viviana Bermudez, who won gold in three out of the four events
she competed in.
Chile is in third place so far in the games, having won 71 medals, of
which 22 are gold. They performed best in rowing, where Chile had a podium
finish in each of the 11 events and won six of them. Chile was also successful
in water skiing, reaching the podium in every competition and also winning
first place in four out of the nine events.
The first South American Games took place in 1978 in La Paz, Bolivia
where 480 athletes representing seven countries competed in only 16 sports.
This is the 12th year of the games, which occur every four years. The games
occur every four years, marking this year's event as the 12th to occur.
Although dozens of events have been held, there is still a lot left to look
out for in the South American Games. Popular events like handball and basketball
are still underway and nearly half of the games are still being played
until the final day on Oct. 15.
Argentine President Alberto Fernández poses with the Argentine delegation of the 2022 South American Games.
PHOTO COURTESY OF WIKIMEDIA COMMONS
GRAPHIC BY SERENA JOHNSON/GRAPHICS CENTER

12
THURSDAY
OCT. 13,
2022
DONS PLAYER PROFILE:
DERECK VALENTINE
SPORTS
CHASE DARDEN
Staff Writer
Dereck Valentine traveled more than 3,000 miles to show off his skills at
USF, but he was already playing at a high level before he got here. Valentine is a
third-year architecture major from Guápiles, Costa Rica who plays the forward
position for the Dons’ men’s soccer team. In Costa Rica, Valentine’s skill shined
when he played for Santos de Guápiles, the soccer academy he attended for his
high school years, earning him a spot on the Costa Rican national team.
The 6-foot-1 forward spent four years with the Costa Rican national team on
the under-20-year-olds team and participated in three tournaments, including the
Confederation of North, Central America, and Caribbean Association Football
(CONCACAF league) “There’s a lot of pressure because you’re representing your
country but at the same time it gives you
a lot of motivation,” Valentine said. “It's
great knowing you’re not only representing
your whole country and its people, but
you’re also representing your culture and
its values.” Valentine and Costa Rica finished
seventh out of 14 in the CONCA-
CAF league and won the Central American
tournament.
It was a dream come true for Valentine
to represent his country on an international
level. “I started playing soccer when
I was four years old, and you always want
to go and play for your national team,”
he said. “It’s an experience not too many
people get to have. I look back and I am
so grateful for that experience. It made me
not only a better player but also a better
person.”
Valentine came to San Francisco in
2020 and felt culture shock as soon as he
touched down in the city. “Back home
there are no cities as big as San Francisco,
I’m used to being closer to the people
around me,” he said. “My first year was
hard, I knew a little bit of English but I
had to be more fluent and I didn’t have my
family with me.”
Valentine said his relationship with
his teammates helped him with his transition.
“They were helpful in terms of including
me in everything and trying to
get to know me. Even though my English
wasn’t that good and [I] couldn’t fully
communicate with everyone they made it
really easy for me to become a part of the
team and the family that we are now.”
Other than Valentine, there was only
one teammate who spoke Spanish — Rodrigo
Bueno, a third-year midfielder for
the Dons who was born and raised in
Monterrey, Mexico. Valentine said that
the two of them formed a bond that is still
strong to this day.
Although Valentine is living in San
Francisco, he still hasn’t lost that sense of
home. “It’s not that hard for me to carry
my culture every day, because it is my
home. I just want to have the strength to
help everyone around me as much as I can
and make the people with who I connect
just a little bit happier,” he said.
On the field, Valentine channels the mentality and philosophy of basketball
legend Kobe Bryant. “The last few years haven’t been easy for me on the sports
side. But that mentality that [Kobe] always had of being relentless and loving the
game and loving the process is with me,” he said. “There’s going to be bad moments
in life in general and things you can’t control, but what you can control is
how you react to them. You can control how much you work to be the best version
of yourself.”
Amid National Hispanic Heritage Month, Valentine reflected on Latine influences
and what the month of national recognition means to him. “Here in San
Francisco, there’s a lot of Hispanic and Latino people, and even though they’re the
minority, the culture here is huge,” he said. “So it’s a great opportunity for everyone
to get to know about the culture and share it with everybody.”
Dereck Valentine carries the heart of Costa Rica
on his back. PHOTO COURTESY OF CHRIS M.
LEUNG/DONS ATHLETICS