From Salsa to MAGA: Red, White and Confused?

As a committed advocate for diversity and history, I’ve watched with both frustration and curiosity as a notable portion of the Latino community supported Donald Trump in recent elections. This article is an opinion piece rooted in historical facts, aiming to explore why so many Latinos find themselves leaning in a political direction that, on the surface, may seem contrary to their interests. By examining the deeper historical, social, and cultural factors that shape Latino political identity, I hope to shed light on this political paradox. To explore these questions, we must look beyond the surface and consider how past experiences, cultural identity, economic aspiration, and even cultural appropriation contribute to this complex reality.

From the start, I’m going to be direct: race is a central factor here. If you’ve been living in a bubble and don’t think race plays at least a 70% role in this dynamic, I challenge you to just view photos of the right and left at any event and draw your own conclusions.

It’s important to note that these views are my own and do not reflect the beliefs of my employer. This perspective is informed by my identity as a Black and Latino man who is passionate about culture and history. My goal is not to present a singular truth, but rather to offer insights into the historical and cultural forces at play for many within the Latino community. For those interested in exploring these ideas further, I highly recommend reading the books included in the images attached. These works provide profound insights into the historical, social, and cultural complexities discussed here.

Hidden Hierarchies and Good Ol’ Fashioned Prejudice

In Latin America, race has historically been understood as non-binary, shaped by a complex interplay of class, appearance, and cultural practices, rather than by rigid, binary racial constructs (a drop of European blood and move up a racial class). This stands in stark contrast to the U.S., where racial identity is often defined by a fixed, binary understanding, heavily influenced by the legacy of the “one-drop rule”—where any amount of Black ancestry categorizes an individual as Black. In Latin America (like everywhere else), however, lighter skin and European ancestry have typically been granted social privileges, granting access to higher social classes and greater social mobility. The more “white” or European an individual appears, the higher up the social hierarchy they often find themselves. This is still prevalent today and can influence political affiliations and social perceptions, with lighter-skinned Latinos sometimes finding it easier to align with white culture and conservative ideologies that suggest pathways to upward mobility and societal acceptance (but you are still Latino - so do not get it twisted).

This modern socio-racial structure is deeply influenced by the rigid, colonial-era caste system imposed by Spanish colonial rule.

This system went above and beyond to categorize individuals based on their racial makeup—mestizo, trigue?o, lobo, mora, zambo, chino, castiza, mulato (don’t get me started with this word) and many others—creating a complex hierarchy to enforce social control and maintain power over Black and Indigenous populations. The system contained over a dozen caste categories (that is wild), each designating a specific social status, rights, and opportunities, distancing those with European ancestry from Black and Indigenous people - ??sounds familiar in 2024?

In Mexico, for instance, the famous caste paintings from the 18th century depict these classifications and reveal a society where the lighter one's skin and the closer one's heritage to European ancestry, the higher their social class (Before Mestizaje: The Frontiers of Race and Caste in Colonial Mexico). Terms like “mestizo” (a mix of European and Indigenous ancestry), “mulatto” (a mix of European and African ancestry or a horse and donkey to make a sterile mule), “zambo” (a mix of African and Indigenous ancestry), and many others became normalized, marking an individual’s place within a rigid socio-racial order. This classification served to create distinctions, where even slight increments of European blood would place an individual higher on the social ladder, often leading Latinos to identify with these terms as a way to distance themselves from Black and Indigenous identities.

While at her ballet and horseback riding classes, I asked my fair-skinned, green-eyed daughter, “Have you ever seen a housekeeper or child caregiver (If you’ve lived in Latin America, you’ll know that most middle- and upper-class households employ housekeepers and child caregivers) with blond hair and blue or green eyes—someone who looks like you?” She paused thoughtfully, glanced at her friends and their chaperones, then replied, “No, nunca. ?Por qué es así?” (“No, never. Why is that?”) Her question was simple, but it was enough to open a much-needed dialogue.

In Latin America, racial identity is often divided across numerous socio-racial categories, creating a deeply stratified society. Colombians and Brazilians for instance, frequently refer to their countries as “nations of mixed people or racial democracies - mestizaje (racial mixing).” While this sounds unifying, it often glosses over the realities faced by marginalized communities. When a nation defines itself as uniformly “mixed,” the unique experiences and needs of Black and Indigenous populations can be overlooked, along with the existence of systemic racism. It’s akin to the well-meaning but flawed “I don’t see color” sentiment—intended to be inclusive, yet ultimately selective and dismissive of real disparities. This history shapes how Latinos in the U.S. perceive race and class today, influencing their political and social alignments in a country where race remains central to access, identity, and belonging.

For many Latinos like myself, especially those of us who understand this complex heritage, it feels like a slap in the face when others dismiss their African and Indigenous roots or support policies that ignore or contradict the realities of these identities within the US. For those who don't know, Latinos are the product of African, Spanish, and Indigenous ancestry—a rich blend that has shaped our community's identity, food, music, and language in unique ways. The election of President Obama in 2008 highlighted this complexity for many Latin American countries, including Cuba and Brazil, as they confronted a pressing question: if the world’s most powerful man, who was biracial, identified as Black, what does that imply for “Black” Latinos who distance themselves from Black identity by using other terms? This tension reflects the often unresolved layers within Latino identity, where embracing all aspects of our heritage is essential to navigating race and belonging in the U.S.

Rhythms Borrowed, Values Bent

Another layer of frustration for me is witnessing how Latino artists and communities often build their success on art forms rooted in Black culture, such as reggaeton and hip-hop—genres born from Black history and struggle. High-profile Latino celebrities like Nicky Jam have gained fame in these genres, yet the paradox is hard to ignore: while these musical forms owe everything to the voices of marginalized Black communities, parts of the Latino community remained silent when Haitians were accused of "eating cats" and other racist tropes were used against them. This selective appreciation—a willingness to embrace Black culture but not stand up for Black struggles—reveals a troubling contradiction.

Nicky Jam initially endorsed Trump, only to retract his support after Trump's folks insulted Puerto Rico—a decision that reveals the complexities and contradictions within Latino solidarity. Nicky has also shared his battles with addiction, depression, and anxiety, challenges he had the economic means to overcome by relocating to Colombia and resetting his life. But many people dealing with mental health or addiction issues lack such resources, relying instead on progressive public health initiatives aimed at helping marginalized communities. Yet, these programs often don’t receive the support they need from those benefiting from Black art and culture. It’s a contradiction in values: love for Black art doesn’t always mean solidarity with Black lives, and it’s a frustrating gap that exposes deep contradictions in identity and empathy.

Fleeing Left, Leaning Right: A Political Migration Story

For many Latino communities in the United States, political alignment doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Often, it is deeply rooted in experiences with oppressive or authoritarian regimes in countries such as Cuba, Venezuela, and Nicaragua. For many fleeing such governments, conservatism is perceived as a safeguard against what they view as a far-left ideology they’ve had to escape. In these cases, the trauma of oppressive rule becomes a lens through which all left-leaning policies in the U.S. are evaluated. Addressing these histories and nuances is crucial to understanding why some Latinos may support right-wing candidates as a means of security against familiar threats.

Climbing the Ladder (and Losing the Accent)

Economic aspiration is often intertwined with political identity within the Latino community. For many, particularly recent immigrants, aligning with conservative, pro-business policies is perceived as a pathway to upward mobility. Conservative messaging appeals to values surrounding family, entrepreneurship, and economic freedom—values that resonate within the Latino community, especially those from business-minded, middle- to upper-class backgrounds. However, this alignment can come at a cultural cost, as some Latinos may feel that achieving economic security necessitates distancing from their heritage or embracing a homogenized, white-centric version of success. This tension between cultural identity and economic ambition often leads to political choices that prioritize individual survival over collective progress - What’s essential for my community to understand is this: in the United States, before you’re recognized as a business owner, you’re seen through the lens of a dominant, white-centric culture. No matter how much you feel you fit in, aspects like your accent, language, skin color, education, or family’s country of origin will often shape how you’re viewed first. You are Latino first, before anything.

Conservative-ish: The Balancing Act Between Values and Reality Across Communities

For Latinos—and many others who identify with conservative ideals—traditional values offer an impressive framework that’s often challenging to uphold in real life. Ideals like family loyalty, religious devotion, abstinence before marriage, opposition to abortion, rejection of extramarital affairs, and self-reliance set high standards that many selectively follow. This balancing act leads to a “conservative-ish” identity, where values are embraced rhetorically but infrequently adapted in practice.

Across communities, values like religious piety, opposition to abortion, and marital fidelity may be embraced on the surface, yet real-life choices—premarital relationships, divorce, single parenthood, government assistance, abortion, and even extramarital affairs—often diverge from these ideals - (wink Herschel Walker). This selective approach reveals the difficulty of fully adhering to traditional conservatism and exposes the disconnect between identity and reality.

For many, conservatism becomes a balancing act—a way to respect cultural, religious, and familial traditions, while navigating modern life’s complexities. This “conservative-ish” stance raises questions about whether these ideals reflect the real needs of communities or simply serve as aspirational markers, selectively upheld but rarely lived in full.

Moving Forward: Redefining the Latino Political Voice

In today’s rapidly evolving political landscape, it’s vital for the Latino community to consider these complexities and reflect on the kind of future they envision for themselves and their children. The Latino vote is not monolithic (yes I know), but understanding the diverse histories, cultural loyalties, and political experiences within the community can help create a more unified, inclusive, and representative understanding as to why some of these choices are made.

In my opinion, you are Latino before you are a business owner or a professional. Before racists see “business owner,” they hear your accent and see your Latinidad. No matter our accomplishments, we carry our heritage with us, and it often shapes how we are seen before anything else. To embrace this identity fully is to acknowledge that economic or political alignment should not require erasure of our cultural essence. Assimilating into white culture should not come at the cost of our rich history, nor should it mean accepting exclusionary ideals.

Larson, B. (2004). Trials of nation making: Liberalism, race, and ethnicity in the Andes, 1810–1910. Cambridge University Press.

Wade, P. (1993). Blackness and race mixture: The dynamics of racial identity in Colombia. Johns Hopkins University Press.

Vinson, B. (2018). Before mestizaje: The frontiers of race and caste in colonial Mexico. Cambridge University Press.