Opinion: How the stories of Dolores Huerta and victims of Chavez can encourage Latina women to speak out about abuse

By Staff Writer Luna Bichon

Content warning: discussion of sexual abuse

Too often, victims of abuse feel pressured to stay silent. They fear the glances or murmurs, gossip or badmouthing from people thought to be friends or family. When I heard the news that César Chávez sexually abused multiple women and girls  within the United Farm Workers movement — but, more importantly, the victims’ and Dolores Huerta’s stories of what they experienced — I was mildly surprised, but not entirely shocked. As a Latina survivor of sexual abuse, I am all too familiar with the harsh reality that Latina women face throughout their lifetimes: while it’s not commonly known, especially outside of the Latin American community, Latina women have to confront a rate of sexual victimization and violence (SVV) of up to 84.6% according to a 2019 study published by the American Psychological Association. Comparatively, in the same study, rates of SVV among white and Black women were 82.7% and 82.3% respectively. Yet, despite facing higher rates of SVV than white and Black women, Latina women are often left out of conversations about abuse against women.

Multiple factors may lead to these disparities.  Colorism and racism can perpetuate poverty and limit  opportunities in academics, employment, and safe housing, which are all risk factors for experiencing or committing sexual violence according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. As of the 2024 US Census Bureau Official Poverty Measure, 15% of Hispanic people live in poverty compared to 7.6% of white, non-Hispanic people — almost twice as many — which can lead to Latina women not having the resources or connections to be a part of studies or get medical help.

Another key reason for the under-representation of Latina women in medical literature and conversations about abuse is that SVV, which includes sexual assault, rape, and other forms of nonconsensual sexual touch and acts, is painfully understudied in POC and by extension, Latinos, according to a 2023 paper published in the Journal of Sex Research. Additionally, the paper asserts that societal and cultural stigma may lead to under-reporting and inaccurate reporting on Latino victims of abuse. In fact, a 2026 paper published in the Violence and Gender journal found Hispanic and Black college students to be less likely to report SVV than white college students. The fact that Hispanic college students are less likely than white college students to report SVV leads to another reason why data about Latina women in SVV literature is understudied and under-reported.

As someone who has survived sexual violence, I am well aware of the difficulties that come with speaking out about your reality. The longstanding familial and societal pressures to be quiet that are only in recent history being reversed, both in Latin America and the US, don’t make the process any easier. Marianismo, for example, is a gender role practiced especially in Mexico, which pushes women to be subservient and docile to men and subscribe to a culture of purity and self-sacrifice, oftentimes by putting family before themselves. Machismo is the male counterpart, which dictates that men should be powerful and self-reliant, but is often associated with toxic or hypermasculinity. 

As a transgender Latina woman, I have experienced both sides of these expectations to some extent. Prior to my transition, I was expected to be strong, resilient, and not show or be entirely vocal about my emotions. After I publicly transitioned, which coincided with the time I reported my abuse, I felt somewhat expected to be submissive  — to not be vocal about my abuse or bring problems to my family by talking about my abuse  — by some of my family members. I feel that this was at least partially influenced by beginning to identify publicly as female and present femininely.

In reporting my abuse, I wondered whether my family would understand me, whether I would figure out how to pursue help through the legal system, whether or not I would be able to move past my experience, whether I would get justice, and whether I would be able to live as “normal” or happy a life as I could. I fully believe that similar worries run through the minds of others who have been grossly victimized. 

The shame and guilt associated with experiencing sexual violence can additionally make it hard to report to the police and proper authorities. It was extremely hard to speak about my abuse. I remember the fear I had and how long I had kept it bottled up. Reporting my abuse to the police took hours of waiting, and it was very nerve-wracking to feel like I was being interrogated by the police officers. After the whole ordeal, the police helped me file a restraining order against the relative who perpetrated my abuse. Since then, I’ve had the chance to recuperate and heal, to feel like I have a majority of the weight lifted off my chest. 

It can be especially difficult for POC to trust the legal system, which in turn can make things even harder to report. For Hispanic people, 33% of the entire Hispanic population  in the US are immigrants (approximately 22.7 million people) according to 2024 Pew Research Center Data. Additional data from Pew in 2021 show that only 38% of foreign-born Hispanic  people in the US are proficient in English — making it even harder for Latina immigrants to report any abuse they experience or navigate the English-dominated legal system.

In cases like that of Chávez’s abuse of Huerta and his other victims, which involve people in power abusing their authority, it can also be scary to feel as if you may be punished, lose respect from friends or family, or not be trusted due to the power differential. Ana Murguia, one of the victims of Chávez, worried she would be blamed for the abuse Chávez perpetrated. She explained that those who learned about the abuse never questioned the men who perpetrated the abuse, but interrogated the victimized women instead. As she shared with the New York Times, “It was always: ‘Well, what did you do? See what you did.’” However, the victims of Chávez also show that survivors of sexual violence can overcome these fears and gain relief and justice from speaking out. “I have kept this secret long enough,” Huerta said in her initial statement. “My silence ends here.”

To those who read this article, we as a society need to study sexual violence among POC, especially Latino people, more. We should also support victims the best we can, by advocating for them to reach out and to be offered mental health and life-assistance services, and fight for them to be included more in academic literature, so that they are better represented. More data existing on the experiences of Latina victims of sexual violence will help Latina victims get the proper treatment and help. As long as we stand by victims, we can make it easier for them and, for those of us who have experienced victimization, for each other to heal.