By Beatriz Palmer
For many Latinos and immigrants these days, psychological safety is scarce—and that is a violation of our most basic human rights. As we commemorate Human Rights Day on December 10, let’s consider what it really means.
The United Nations defines human rights as “the inherent dignity and the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family.”Yet here we are in 2025, in a country that many run to for hope, still fighting for basic human rights: dignity, safety, shelter, food, and even due process. We can love this beautiful country and still be critical of its disparities.
My parents, like many other immigrants, came to this country in 1974, carrying a box full ofhope. My mother, the daughter of a U.S. citizen and a Purépecha mother, tried to obtain legal status, but the process was complicated and unforgiving. She shared stories of the late 1970s, when immigration raids, like the ones today, were rampant in North County: farmworkers removed on payday, so owners didn’t have to pay wages; unfair working conditions in factories and farms; maltreatment for simply being Brown or Black and for speaking Spanish. I still remember witnessing families going shopping or doing laundry. Suddenly, carts and wash loads were left unattended as people hid in grocery stores and laundromats, children being rushed into bathrooms and told, “quiet, don’t talk, hands over your mouth and eyes,” paralyzed by the fear of separation from their loved ones.
Due process is a human right. Safety is a human right. Living a childhood without fear is a human right. Sadly, decades later, our communities continue to face the same fear.
The Patterns of Human Rights
Sociology seeks patterns in society—how systems work or fail and how we navigate the spaces in between, the Nepantla. At the macro level, global policies are tied to human rights defined by the United Nations; at the micro level, there are basic, invisible thresholds people need to exist with dignity.
This semester, I taught Race & Ethnic Relations and Critical Thinking in Chicana/Latina Studies. Together, we dove deep into conversations grounded in human rights. We explored our identity and origins, our culture, our feminisms, the ongoing struggle for liberation and rights. And we highlighted our greatness! But I reminded my students: none of this work has ever been done alone; it is best done in the spirit of collective effort—unidos. Look at the marches alongside Cesar Chavez, Dolores Huerta, Dr. Martin Luther King, or the mujeres bravas we rarely hear about like Luisa Moreno, an activist from Guatemala who linked arms with other brave activists and fought for the labor rights we all benefit from. We reflected on the ganas of our own familias and communities who refuse to rajarse (give up)—because it’s their right! Like my Ama Chela says, “¡Aquí la lucha es permitida!”
Access to Nature, Food, and Ancestral Knowledge
When I asked Dr. Cynthia Cardona, a first-gen doctora of French History and a Program Manager for Reaching Roots, what human rights meant to her, she first thought in global terms—war crimes, international courts, state violence. But she also sees the local violations clearly. “Access to nature and green spaces is a human right,” she says.
She’s right. Even prisons recognize the need for people to go outside for fresh air and to feel the embrace of the solecito (the sun). Yet data shows that zoning policies have kept Black and Latino communities with the least access to green spaces, clean air, clean water, and nutritious food—all a denial of human rights.
Cynthia works with Bianca Bonilla, the founder and CEO of Botanical Community Development Initiatives, aka Plants, People, Community. They are committed to teaching about food sovereignty and appreciation for our cultural roots. She works directly with youth to reconnect them with nature and the tierras sagradas. “Youth crave time in nature,” she says. “They put their phones away when we hike. Their bodies remember what their minds have been denied.” An ancestral instinct!
She shared a story of a student whose family grows Oaxacan coffee in their backyard—an agricultural achievement corporations spend millions trying to replicate. But her family did it with ancestral knowledge passed down through generations—evidence of community cultural wealth.
This is human rights: the right to food sovereignty, to cultural memory, and to connection with the earth.
Dignity in Education and the Right to Be Seen
Education is a human right, too—but not just access to school. Sylvia Mendez and Ruby Bridges fought for equal access. We pick up where they left, demanding the right to be seen and validated in our full identity.
Retired educator Dr. Edward Pohlert, a beloved mentor and facilitator of cultural experiences, says, “Human rights is the ability to look beyond circumstances and feel the essence of a human and their right to self-determination.” He learned it working as a youth counselor in the Nueva Maravilla Housing Project in Los Angeles, where young people carried deep invisible wounds created by broken systems.
“They taught me more about empathy and resilience than any book,” he says. Throughout his career, he faced every student with the question: “What assumptions must I erase to meet them with dignity?”
Dr. Pohlert believes creating a spirit of familia and comunidad in a college setting is essential to honoring students’ rights to humanity, culture, and belonging. Institutions must weave corazón y conciencia into their policies, curriculum and practices. “Go to work with inspiration in your heart, empathy in your pocket, and belief that students can do it,” he urges.
Housing, Motherhood, and the Right to Stability
Human rights show up in the most intimate ways of knowing and being, like the right to be reunified with your children without being penalized or judged for poverty.
Melissa Cueva connects human rights to validation. “Human rights are connected to one’s individuality, choices, and having your feelings validated.”
But for years, she was denied it. Because of her record with the justice system, she lost custody of her children. But her full story was overshadowed. Her counter story is that she surrendered her children so they could be safe, a difficult decision that came from a place of love.
Then, one social worker changed everything. She “really cared about me and her clients. Because of her advocacy, I was reunited with my children. She helped me get an HUD voucher for housing. She helped me build a stable path and a home for all five of my kids.”
But Melissa still faces structural barriers, with only $80 in food stamps for a family of seven, denial of cash aid because her fiancé lives with her, and a welfare system that does not account for rent or utilities. “There are so many families with children experiencing homelessness. The right to affordable housing is not being met,” she says.
She is now healthy, a first -generation college student working as a Promotora at MiraCosta College’s HSI (Hispanic Serving Institution), nurturing her children, mentoring others from her lived experience. She attributes her academic success to the community at MiraCosta College, the Transitions community of system-impacted individuals. “They paved the way for me, and now I’m paving the way for mine.” Her advice to others is, “Don’t stay quiet. Closed mouths don’t get fed. Advocate for yourself.”
Cynthia, Edward, and Melissa show us a simple truth: human rights live in the everyday, in our land, our housing, our schools; in the right to be seen, validated, given second chances, and to raise children after hardship; in the right to walk outside without fear, to feel sun, water, and air without harm; in the right to move through your community with psychological safety—to speak your language and live your culture.
We come from ancestors who survived colonization, displacement, migration, and poverty, yet still loved, created, and dreamed. Hope sparkles when youth put their phones down and embrace the earth, rocks, and plants. Healing begins when a mother is believed, when an educator leads with empathy.
Human rights live in our counter stories.May we keep telling them, advocating, teaching, organizing, serving, growing food, and building community.
Human rights aren’t only written in global policies; they are written in our lives.
