A Nurse’s View: The Health Crisis Facing Latino Americans at America’s 250th (Opinion)

Opinion: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Nurse.org.

Throughout 2026, the United States will celebrate its 250th anniversary, a year dedicated to reflecting on the nation’s history, recognizing the contributions of generations of Americans, and imagining the future we hope to create.

A milestone anniversary invites us to consider not only where we have been, but who has built this nation and who will shape its future. It requires us to ask whose contributions are recognized, whose voices are heard, and whether the promise of America extends fully to all communities that call this country home.

As a nurse, I believe these questions are inseparable from health.

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Nursing has always been a profession grounded in responding to the realities people face beyond the walls of healthcare institutions. We care for individuals in moments of illness and crisis, but we also have a responsibility to recognize the social conditions that influence whether people become sick, whether they seek care, and whether they feel safe enough to ask for help.

Today, as our nation reflects on 250 years of independence, we must acknowledge a quiet emergency affecting Latino communities across the United States: one marked by rising suicide risk, increasing overdose deaths, and a disturbing rise in anti-Latino hate and discrimination. These challenges are unfolding within a broader environment of intensified anti-Latino rhetoric, aggressive immigration enforcement, and mass deportation policies that create fear and uncertainty far beyond those directly targeted.

I was born in the South Bronx to a Puerto Rican mother and a Dominican father. I built my life in this country. I trained as a healthcare provider here, developed my nursing career here, pay taxes here, vote here, and serve as the first tenured Latino endowed professor at the Johns Hopkins University School of Nursing, where I lead the Center for Latino Adolescent and Family Health.

For most of my life, I never questioned whether I belonged. I believed deeply in the American promise that education, hard work, and perseverance could create opportunity. I believed belonging was not something people had to repeatedly prove.

But as a nurse, researcher, and Latino American, I have seen how quickly belonging can become uncertain when public narratives portray an entire community as a problem rather than as a partner in building the nation.

In my recent New England Journal of Medicine perspective, “Correcting False Narratives: Indispensable Latino Contributions to U.S. Population Health,” I highlighted a fundamental reality: Latinos are indispensable to the United States.

Latino workers, caregivers, educators, healthcare professionals, entrepreneurs, and public servants are woven into every aspect of American life. Latinos strengthen the nation’s economy, workforce, healthcare system, and future.

That includes the healthcare system itself. Latino workers make up roughly 18 percent of the U.S. healthcare workforce, yet remain underrepresented in the professions requiring advanced degrees, concentrated instead in the caregiving and support roles the system depends on most.

Latinos are not only the patients; they are also the nurses, physicians, technicians, and aides delivering care. The increasing sense of not belonging I describe reaches into the hospital from both sides of the bedside.

Yet the same communities that are indispensable to America’s success are increasingly experiencing messages that question their legitimacy, belonging, and safety.

These messages are not harmless. Anti-Latino narratives shape public attitudes, influence policies, and contribute to conditions that harm health. When communities are portrayed as outsiders or threats, the consequences are felt in clinics, emergency departments, schools, workplaces, and homes.

The result is a profound contradiction: a community that is essential to America’s prosperity and population health is simultaneously experiencing conditions that threaten its health and well-being.

When immigration enforcement intensifies and public discourse frames immigrants and Latinos as threats, the impact extends far beyond undocumented individuals. Fear spreads through families and communities, including U.S.-born Latino citizens. People begin to question whether seeking healthcare, reporting concerns, or engaging with institutions designed to help them could expose themselves or loved ones to harm.

That fear has consequences. It can contribute to chronic stress, anxiety, depression, social isolation, and delayed access to care. At a time when Latino communities are facing rising suicide risk and overdose deaths, creating additional barriers to trust and support places even more people at risk.

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I spoke with Linda Lausell Bryant, an NYU professor whose work focuses on ethnic identity and mental health, about what it means to belong in this moment.

Linda, who was born in Brooklyn to Puerto Rican parents, was clear: “I definitely belong.”

But she also acknowledged a painful reality: many Latinos feel unwelcome despite their deep roots and contributions to this country.

Linda described the contradiction many Latino Americans now experience. They know they belong. They know their families have built communities, served this nation, and strengthened its institutions. Yet they also feel the weight of rhetoric and policies that make them question whether the country sees them as fully American.

That tension carries a psychological cost.

Linda shared that she carries her U.S. passport with her, not because she is required to, but because she feels afraid. Her experience reflects a broader reality: when people feel compelled to constantly prove their belonging, the burden affects their sense of safety, dignity, and well-being.

For nurses, these experiences cannot be viewed as separate from healthcare.

Nurses are often the first to recognize when a patient’s physical symptoms are connected to deeper struggles. We sit with families during moments of crisis. We build relationships across generations. We care for people regardless of immigration status, political beliefs, or circumstances.

That proximity gives nurses a unique responsibility.

We must ask not only, “What brings a patient here today?” but also, “What experiences are shaping this person’s health?” We must recognize when depression, anxiety, substance use, or physical illness may be connected to discrimination, fear, trauma, or isolation. We must create healthcare environments where Latino patients and families feel respected, protected, and heard.

My cousin Carolyn Ramos, an attorney born in the Bronx to Puerto Rican parents, expressed this tension in another way. When I asked whether she felt she belonged, she answered immediately:

“I belong. But I question whether the country sees it the same way.”

Her words reflect the experience of many Latino Americans whose families have contributed to this nation for generations, yet who still encounter moments when their place in America is questioned.

Nurses understand that health is shaped by more than biology. The conditions in which people live, work, and experience society directly influence well-being. Discrimination, fear, and exclusion are not only social concerns; they are health concerns.

Responding to this crisis requires nurses to lead.

That leadership means expanding access to mental healthcare, strengthening substance use prevention and treatment, building culturally responsive care models, partnering with Latino communities, recognizing the health consequences of discrimination, and advocating for policies that protect dignity and safety.

Nursing has always been a profession of advocacy. Throughout history, nurses have responded to epidemics, disasters, inequities, and community crises. The challenges facing Latino communities today require that same commitment.

As America celebrates 250 years throughout this year, we have an opportunity to reflect on what kind of nation we want to become for the next 250 years.

A healthier future requires recognizing that Latino communities are not on the margins of the American story. They are central to it.

The question is not whether Latinos belong. They already do.

The question is whether our nation will recognize the health consequences of rhetoric and policies that create fear, whether it will protect the communities that sustain this country, and whether it will mobilize those best positioned to respond.

Nurses must be among those leaders.

We are caregivers, educators, researchers, advocates, and trusted partners. We have the knowledge, relationships, and responsibility to address the quiet emergencies affecting millions of Americans.

A 250-year celebration is not only a time to look back. It is a moment to decide what comes next.

And the health of America’s future depends on whether every person is seen, valued, and cared for.

🤔 Nurses: Have you seen fear or discrimination affect whether your patients seek care? What can nursing do to make every patient feel safe asking for help? Tell us in the comments below.