Coming to Pomona College, I was fearful about finding community as a first-generation low-income Mexican American student. I went to a private international school in Houston, Texas, which, while amazing for my education, was socially isolating, with only 6% of students on financial aid and few Latines. I was excited to attend a college with affinity groups like Chicano Latino Student Affairs (CLSA), Latinx Alliance (LXA) and First-Generation Low-Income Students (FLI) that I could find community in. I would also unexpectedly find my community in the small but mighty Intercollegiate Chicana/o Latina/o Studies Department.
When I arrived in August, I immediately signed up for CLSA’s New Student Retreat, where students participate in a series of fun activities, like a dance party and a Latine-focused club fair, to meet fellow Latine students. Latine professors took time out of their Saturday to speak to Latine students about their classes and interests. Hearing from professors Arely Zimmerman, Martha Gonzalez and Gilda Ochoa was my first encounter with the concept of Chicanx Latinx Studies (CLS). This was my first glimpse into the very strong and beautiful community fostered by the 5C Intercollegiate Chicanx Latinx Studies Department.
During the Pomona College Poster Symposium in September, I recognized professor Zimmerman and Lizette Gonzalez PO ’27 from the retreat and wandered over to learn more. Gonzalez had spent her summer documenting the changes and responses in Inglewood communities before and after ICE raids, working with professor Zimmerman. I was really touched by how Gonzalez, in a time when many people in the Latine community are paralyzed by fear, was on the ground carrying out pláticas — informal and intimate conversations — documenting Latine spaces before they no longer existed. After being in the LXA community and seeing glimpses of the work students did with CLS, I signed up for a class for spring 2026.
In CLS fashion, I carried out pláticas with multiple students at the 5Cs to figure out where I wanted this project to go. I went on to highlight three students — two seniors and one freshman — to get a glimpse into the beginning and end of a student’s journey in the CLS major.
“CLS taught me to imagine myself as an actor in change and a driving force for the terms of my community.” — Drea Alonzo PO ’26
Alonzo came to Pomona thinking they would only major in politics. She joined LXA because she, too, wanted to find community as a Latine First-Gen student. They found that many of their politics classes focused more on political theory and institutions rather than on the communities they cared about, which led them to also take CLS classes. “To the freshman Latines, take a CLS class while you still can. You’re gonna find yourself there eventually, so you might as well start while you can still major or minor,” Alonzo said.
Their first CLS class was titled “Immigration and Activism” with professor Zimmerman, which focused on engaging with community organizing and activism. They began mentoring a Latina middle school student, and felt like an older sister to her. Alonzo believes this class taught them that beyond their identity as students, they are also community members. This course gave them the confidence to join LXA leadership.
Now a double major in politics and Chicanx Latinx studies, Alonzo’s thesis, “El Poder De Mi Sueño,” (“The Power of My Dreams”) archives the dreams of Latina immigrants in Salinas Valley, California, where she grew up. Her thesis shines a light on her mom and family friends, strong educators and dreamers who have courageously fought for their families and challenged traditional gender roles.
With the support of their CLS professors, Alonzo was awarded a Fulbright grant and will be teaching in South Korea after graduation.
“There’s this misconception that you can’t do much with a CLS major, but you learn how to do interviews, research, platicas — you become a jack of all trades.” — Isabella Henriquez SC ’26
Henriquez came to Scripps with an interest in sociology and history, and happened upon CLS classes. She didn’t plan on majoring in CLS, but by junior year, when she took a glance at her transcript with several CLS classes, she thought she should make it official.
She kept taking CLS classes because, to Henriquez, they felt the most personal, with a strong, tight-knit classroom that she couldn’t find anywhere else. Henriquez believes her peers were more willing to be vulnerable, as they each approached the class from a place of care and shared the same sense of urgency about the issues the Latine community faces. When crises arise in their community, professors provide the space to share anxieties and mutual aid. For example, when Trump was elected, the next class’s plans were changed to a recognition of everyone’s distress, opening the floor to conversation.
Henriquez is interested in working in higher education after she graduates to help foster an inclusive community. She is also considering working at an immigration firm and working towards ICE abolition.
Henriquez emphasizes the importance of Latine students, and herself specifically, taking CLS classes to educate themselves on their own history. She says that even if you are the slightest bit interested, go and take that one CLS class you have had your eye on.
“People do reciprocal projects. Yes, we’re doing research, but we’re trying to understand our communities and give back.” — Philip Rodas PO ’29
Rodas is from LA and intends to major in CLS. He came in thinking he wanted to study sociology as a pre-med student, but taking the first year seminar, Chicanx Latinx in Los Angeles with professor Ochoa, pointed him to CLS.
“I’m from Los Angeles, but [the class had] more of a historical and analytical standpoint to the Latinx communities that form and live within LA,” Rodas said.
Feeling the strong sense of community and wanting to take a class with Ochoa before she went on sabbatical, Rodas then took a CLS research and methods class, an upper-division class for majors, this spring. At Pomona, he felt that the Latine community was Mexican-centric, causing him to more strongly identify himself as not only Latino, but Central American. Rodas states that this is why he has chosen to take Central American Migration with professor Zimmerman.
As a first-year student, Rodas has been interviewing his family members and friends who are Central American, looking at how they navigate health and healthcare in Los Angeles. Rodas has also created a resource guide of trusted websites to enroll in medical, federally qualified health centers and free clinics in the area. After graduation, he plans on continuing this research to help his community, whether in grad school or informally.
Alonzo, Henriquez and Rodas all recognize themselves as community advocates who hold the power to make change. Reaching their respective communities, they are understanding their familial history on a more critical and intimate level.
As CLS majors, they can act as the researchers and documentarians of their own communities, which have historically gone unseen. CLS is not simply a major; it’s an education that provides students with the tools, methodologies and language to analyze and process histories and identities they may not have been able to identify.
Professor Alcalá, my professor for Intro to CLS, shared with me that the CLS department has recently received criticism for classroom activism. To that, she laughs and says, “Chicanx Latinx was born out of activism. It’s impossible to remove activism from studies that are inherently activism.”
Alcalá, who is also from Texas, showed me the importance of Chicanx Latinx Studies. CLS classes have often been deemed as “easy to pass” classes that one takes to fulfill a general education requirement — all four students I interviewed said this was a common misconception. What this assumption fails to recognize is the emotional labor students undertake in their personal reflection and affiliation with the complex topics at hand.
I wish I could tell first-year me entering Pomona that I would not only find a community in affinity groups, but also in the CLS department, which empowers students to be active community members. In fact, the CLS department is beautifully interwoven with the shared culture of Latine students in CLSA and LXA, who promote social change and safe spaces where, despite not sharing the exact same cultures, people show up willing to be vulnerable and to listen.
I appreciate every individual who was willing to speak with me, ranging from first-years to seniors. Everyone I spoke to is an activist in their communities in one form or another, and they were just as thankful as I was to have engaged in that conversation. There’s an innate sense of community, passion and appreciation that exists among the Latines in the CLS department that I haven’t found anywhere else. So, please, if you’re a first-year student, or just someone who has never taken a CLS course (or an ethnic studies course for that matter), give one a try. You might find yourself writing a 40-page thesis — or a TSL article — about it.
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