American Democracy as a Young Brown, Low-Income Queer Woman

The Fulcrum is committed to nurturing the next generation of journalists. To learn about the many NextGen initiatives we are leading, click HERE.

We asked Maria Jose Arango Torres, a student at Northwestern University and an intern with the Latino News Network, to share her thoughts on what democracy means to her and her perspective on its current health.

Here’s her insight on the topic.

I didn’t inherit American democracy. I was made an accessory to it. As a young adult raised in the United States with limited legal protections, I’ve watched my presence in this country debated, politicized, and dehumanized. As a child, I saw that those who looked like me weren’t choosing the leaders—we were the subjects of their campaigns.

According to the U.S. Constitution, the First Amendment guarantees the American people the right to believe, speak up, and hold the government accountable when it fails to represent all. In early April, international students at U.S. universities faced detention and visa threats after speaking out during Gaza solidarity protests. These cases illuminate American democracy: speaking out against the logic of racism, which is genocide according to Martin Luther King Jr., triggers government enforcement to threaten those without racial and ethnic privileges under the First Amendment.

Still, as a naturalized citizen, I remain suffocated by American democracy. Because I care to speak out against racist and genocidal ideologies freely, but I fear that practicing my freedom of speech will be an impediment to walking at my graduation. Under the Trump administration, American democracy has only proven what I have witnessed all my life: low-income queer brown women do NOT have a voice in American democracy because they were never made to have one. A democracy does NOT continue in the absence of voices but in the creation of many. And it is clear that American democracy, from its founding until the present, continues to exist at the cost of chaining colored bodies.

In January, when the ICE raids began, my sleep began to decrease. Later on, my therapist told me my insomnia could be PTSD from being an undocumented child. When I gained the privilege of receiving documents to be recognized as a full “American citizen,” my experience tied to my identities did not leave. Becoming a naturalized citizen did not erase the clouds of inferiority the U.S sprang on me for being an undocumented child: With nine weeks left from finishing my journalism degree at Northwestern, I still don’t feel smart enough, because I spent my life in places catered to the white and wealthy. The further I move from my community, the closer my access to a higher quality of life becomes — because the slave owner and colonizer did not make a democracy for my community to have privilege solely for being.

Adrienne Scheide, former Northwestern University Feminist president and my colleague, earlier in June, had to find a lawyer at the risk of dismantling the logic of racism and homophobia. “This is social policy to help and educate others. This is human development. This is learning science. This is education. We educate not just with one voice, but with the perspectives of many identities and many communities. We need diverse voices. We need Indigenous voices, Black voices, Asian, Arab, Latinx, Jewish, low income, disabled, lesbian, gay, bisexual, but especially in this current moment, transgender voices.” said Scheide “We need the voices of those who are facing the risk of their visas being revoked, those who are facing the risk of being deported or held in detention facilities by ICE, immigrants, children being taken from their families, their homes, and students who have similarly been detained, student activists who have voiced perspectives that are not approved of those who have spoken out about the atrocities occurring in Palestine. Our struggle for civil liberties is not separated. We are currently experiencing a collective attack on diversity, free speech, and higher education. But there is always hope. There is always resistance. When we need it most, we lean on each other, we protect each other, and we uplift each other when we need it. Maintain your empathy and speak up, even when your voice shakes. person, no statement, no order can take away the community.”

Scheide was raised in Wisconsin and saw the opportunity to use her privilege and remember her graduation as a marker when she overcame the fear to speak up in our government.“The beautiful thing about change is the certainty that you can change as well. No Moment. No person, no one's perception of you defines you” said Scheide.

The constitution does not matter in American democracy when you are NOT white. On June 27, 2025, the Supreme Court made a decision that could help President and convicted felon Trump move forward with his plan to end birthright citizenship for children of undocumented and temporary immigrants. The Court didn’t decide whether Trump’s order is legal. Instead, it ruled that lower court judges can’t block a policy nationwide unless it directly affects the people who sued. This means Trump’s policy is still paused for now, but only for a short time—30 days—while legal battles continue. If put in place, the policy could mean children of color born in the U.S. would not automatically become citizens, which could leave some of them stateless.

The U.S. was a Brown family’s home first. If America had a true democracy, I could be my whole self. A democracy would amplify the facts, unlike the current administration. The attack on undocumented immigrants is not about coming the “right way.” The Founding Fathers are often portrayed as thieves and are sometimes associated with human trafficking. Racism has always been used by the white and wealthy to disguise their own sense of inferiority by classifying others as “inferior,” acquiring more, and incentivizing violence. When history changes, American democracy will count everyone, especially those of color, free from racist, dissatisfied, white, wealthy men like Trump, opening the doors to the American dream.

However, in the present, Trump exposes the reality of my voice in American democracy, and I am proven that because I did not inherit the privileges of the founding fathers, my voice is treated as if it matters not. No Northwestern degree or higher acquisition of privilege will erase my sense of inferiority, informed by the treatment of identities I did not choose to have in American democracy.

Suzetti Ueno-Dasilva, a rising senior and pre-med student at Northwestern, became my closest friend because I met her in Bridge. This program prepares low-income students and students of color for a summer before their first year. She grew up in Fresno, California, as a Japanese American and a first-generation American of Guinea-Bissau descent. Ueno-Dasilva attended Edison High School after transferring to pursue a better education. “After I got to those spaces, it was segregated. A lot of the white and wealthier students were separated from the students who lived in the neighborhood of my high school. So I had very little exposure to different people within my high school experience,” said Ueno-Dasilva.

According to the 2020 Census, the Hispanic or Latino community is 50.6% of the Fresno population. Being raised in Fresno, Ueno-Dasilva grew up watching the brown community nurture jobs in agriculture. “Fresno didn't have a large Japanese or even African population, so it was kind of hard to assimilate into either of those spaces. So I identified as, like, my own, ” said Ueno-Dasilva. “ There is also another stigma of biracial people being too proud of the fact that they are biracial, which is another whole thing. But in Fresno, I wasn't really concerned, or I wasn't really revolving around the fact that I was biracial, but it was more like I was a person of color.”

To Ueno-Dasilva, American democracy is her immigrant parents. “My parents were more American than me, even though I was born here. I feel like they truly worked to obtain that status,” said Ueno-Dasilva.

American democracy can be a democracy when it begins to count all people living in its “democracy.”

Please help the Fulcrum in its mission of nurturing the next generation of journalists by donating HERE!