By Cristina Pinzon

My story, like many stories across our country, started in a small apartment in a big city in Latin America. Despite having a decent life in Bogota, Colombia, my mother chose to come to this country to provide me with the opportunity to create a brighter future.

She took a risk bringing a young newborn to a new country. She wanted to make sure I could have exposure to better opportunities than those that were afforded to her in Colombia. Our new home became the City of Elizabeth, a developing and changing community where no family looked alike and no language was similar.

Pinzon: My mother took a risk bringing me as a young newborn to a new country. She wanted to make sure I could have exposure to better opportunities than those that were afforded to her in Colombia. (Photo courtesy of the Pinzon Family)

Having been raised in Elizabeth, I never felt any different or labeled because that's not how I was treated or taught to think. Instead, as I got older and became more involved in different organizations, I found myself to be the minority in more than one way. At 24, I was a recent grad trying to find my way through life. After having worked for and served on the board of several recognized organizations, I noticed one constant theme: I was always the youngest, the only minority, and a female at that.

While I was grateful for these opportunities, I came to the grueling realization that our society is separated by several factions, including power, income, and gender. Here I am now in my 30s, a millennial, still trying to figure out what label I should wear, especially in a time of racial and gender divisiveness.

Like so many nowadays, I found myself having to defend my patriotism when a stranger called me un-American for being a Latina. Never have experienced such direct blatant racism, I was shocked when the woman approached my side and repeatedly told me I was not American because I was not born here. And for some odd reason, she was also surprised that I could speak English and was married to a Caucasian man. At first, her disparaging remarks hurt but I didn't let it phase me, because I honor my patriotism and devotion to this country by helping where I can and participating in the democratic process.

As a Latina millennial, I believe that my duty, along with all other Americans of voting age, is to participate in our democracy. I vote out of respect for all the young men and women whose families took risks to build a new life here. They thought the promise of freedom and the prospect to self-govern was worth the sacrifice. I vote for all those who came here seeking the same opportunities as my mother, but do not have a pathway to citizenship. I vote, too, to improve a fragile economy that if not addressed could have dire consequences for millennials as we get older.

Millennials make up the majority of Latino voters at 43.5 percent, and one-fifth or 18.1 percent of everyone in the 18 to 35-year-old age group, according to Pew Research.

The good news is that more young Latinos voted in the most recent election. Between 13.1 million to 14.7 million Latinos voted in 2016, according to The Washington Post. Between 2014 and 2018, four million more Latinos became eligible to vote, mostly by young people coming of age and naturalized.

More can be done. The Latino community's concerns are lost opportunities because their voices are not heard through the ballot. This is a monumental lost opportunity to make the concerns of the Latino community known.

Next week, we will have another opportunity to vote, and the stakes have never been higher. In the last two years, Latino millennials have been under attack, faced with the constant threat of deportation while thousands of families have been torn apart. Those who have the right to vote can stand up for those who are powerless and to make our concerns and our values known.

I want to make clear that we Latinos do not make up a monolithic voting bloc. We come in an all shapes, colors and beliefs. We share a common heritage and many of us still speak Spanish. But as Americans we want the same as any another American - or any other immigrant who aspires to be American.

That said, when the Latino community does not bother to walk to the polling booth, they send a message that no one has to listen to them. We cannot afford to do this anymore.

Voting is the only voice most of us have. It is the only way to make our issues important to those who have the power to act on them. It is also the means by which Latinos can assert ourselves as full participants in this American democracy with every right to be heard.

Vote on Nov. 6.

Cristina Pinzon is the founder of Stateside Affairs, a women-minority owned public and government relations firm based in New Jersey. She is also a member of LUPE PAC, a non-partisan political action committee whose mission is to increase the number of Latinas in elected and appointed office in the state of New Jersey.

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