As the youngest population in Iowa, Latinos are finding success through education

Part of a series for the Des Moines Register's 175th anniversary that examines Iowa's past and future demographics.

Gabby Guerra stood by the entrance of Jewett Hall on a recent Sunday afternoon, greeting the dozens of Latino families who came from all over Iowa to Drake University's campus. Even the intense heat was no match for Guerra's cheery voice and big smile as she welcomed parents and students armed with duffle bags, suitcases, fuzzy blankets and pillows.

" Pasen, pasen ," Guerra said in Spanish, directing the groups to the lobby, where they met her colleagues from Al Éxito and Drake students who handed them giveaways before helping them settle in dorms.

July 14 kicked off the first day of the nonprofit's annual summer camp, Al Éxito University , a free, four-day event geared toward Latino high school students who are on the path to be the first in their families to attend college. Parents that day attended bilingual workshops with their teens to learn more about applying for college and financial aid, building a support system and working with teachers and counselors to prepare for those next steps.

The Latino community in Iowa is essential to the state's growth — it has grown more than 13-fold since 1969 to 7% of Iowa's population and is projected to more than double to 408,000 people by 2050, according to the Iowa Latinx Project. It also is the youngest of Iowa's racial or ethnic groups, with a median age of 23.7 compared to 41.5 for the white population.

Which is why education has become such a touchstone for programs like Al Éxito, one of the only nonprofits in the state working to empower Latino Iowans through education to not only find success but to strengthen Iowa's future workforce. It's also why community groups have fought against the state's latest immigration law , which makes it a crime to enter Iowa for anyone with an outstanding deportation order or who previously has been removed from or denied admission to the U.S.

The law, on hold after a federal judge granted a temporary injunction in June , put Iowa immigrants on edge, igniting fears over racial profiling. Latino Iowans in Des Moines, Waterloo and other cities united in protest this summer, seeking to raise awareness of the far-reaching law that even police departments charged with enforcing it criticized .

Living in the U.S. with uncertainty is a feeling Guerra, a program director at Al Éxito, knows all too well. Nearly two decades ago, Guerra came to the U.S. from El Salvador with her parents, who wanted her and her siblings to have a better future.

Guerra said that journey can be tough, lonely and scary, especially for those who are first-generation college students.

The message during the Al Éxito University welcome event was reminiscent of the one that poured from this summer's marches: " No están solo ": You are not alone.

Al Éxito University seeks to show Latinos are 'powerful'

Before the families dispersed for campus tours, Alejandro Hernandez shared what his father told him after he became the first Latino dean at Drake: "We cannot be looked down upon." Hernandez, who leads the Zimpleman College of Business, said he understood that meant to have humility and to recognize the role is more than a title.

"We are incredibly powerful," he told the crowd of more than 80 teens and their families. "We have so much to contribute."

In Iowa, Latinos make up about 7% — or 221,805 — of the state's population. By 2060, the Iowa Latino population is expected to reach nearly 518,000, according to a report last year by the State Data Center of Iowa . In 2022, 75% of Iowa Latinos over the age of 16 were in the labor force, compared with 67% of all Iowans 16 and older. Latino workers primarily took on jobs in transportation, production, business, management and service, the data center reported.

Recent findings from the Iowa Latinx Project say Latinos own 4,695 businesses in the state, and they generate $1 billion in annual revenue. And the 106,000 Latino workers in Iowa collectively earn $4.8 billion in annual income.

But both reports also highlight disparities, especially in education. While 93% of Iowans 25 and older have at least a high school education, the figure drops to 70% for Latino Iowans, according to the State Data Center. And while 32% of Iowans 25 and older have at least a bachelor's degree, just 16% of Latino Iowans do. Latinos continue to remain underrepresented in colleges and universities.

Lack of educational resources and bilingual programs for children and parents are examples of issues hindering students' success, the Latinx Project found.

For Guerra and colleague Andres Lomeli Cervantes, their work through Al Éxito is personal, driven by their desire to help the next generation of students. They, along with other program leaders, know the barriers students and immigrant families face in getting a higher education. Immigration status, lack of money, language difficulties and absence of a support system are common challenges that make it harder to take the next step, they say.

"I questioned my place at the university — whether I belong there at all," Cervantes, 19 and a rising sophomore at the University of Northern Iowa, told the audience about his first year in college. "I remember sitting in my dorm feeling isolated and overwhelmed, thinking of all the sacrifices my family made, the pressure. … And I often felt all the weight on my shoulders."

That moment in his dorm room was just part of the story. Prior to arriving at UNI, Cervantes said, he was on track to receive a full ride scholarship for an online institution. It was the chance of a lifetime for the Marshalltown native, who was working three jobs to save up for college. Cervantes said the opportunity fell through at the last minute, but he found refuge in Al Éxito, especially in Executive Director Dawn Martinez Oropeza, who supported him and helped him get to UNI.

As Cervantes opened up about his freshman year, he also noted other roadblocks such as switching majors, adjusting to living on a college campus and making new friends.

"The struggle does not stop there," he said, encouraging parents and students alike to ask for help, ask questions and persevere.

'You have a community that believes in you,' program staffer says

Guerra, who graduated from the University of Iowa, recalled worrying about signing up for Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, also known as DACA, after former President Barack Obama in 2014 expanded the program, which allows undocumented people who came to the country as children to continue to live, work and study in the U.S.

"My family and I were really scared to go into a system," Guerra, 28, told the Des Moines Register. "We were scared of what that could mean now that we became more visible to the United States government. There was a lot of fear filling out that first application because now they had everything of yours, but we decided to take the risk.

"We felt like if this is going to give you the opportunity to go to get an education, then we're going to do that."

Guerra was 7 when she and her parents came to Iowa in 2002 from El Salvador. She was the first among her siblings to arrive and still remembers how her parents explained their nearly 3,000-mile move.

"They told me that I was coming here so I could get an education," Guerra said. She said she knew even then she was undocumented, but set her sights on the goal of doing well in school.

Before the Guerras left their home country, which had long been engulfed in a civil war, it had grown increasingly violent. Poverty rates rose, and jobs and opportunities dwindled. She said her father was a migrant worker who traveled back and forth between El Salvador and the U.S., primarily in California. He took on factory and manufacturing jobs and worked in fast-food restaurants — "really, anything at that time," she said.

Guerra's father had a friend who settled in Utah and a relative who found a home in Iowa. He followed the advice of the relative, who saw Des Moines as a place that was safe for families and had good schools. Cervantes said his parents, likewise, emigrated to the U.S. from Mexico in the hope their children would receive a solid education.

In school, Guerra was a stellar student, and in seventh grade, she was part of an accelerated program at Central Academy. She believed, like so many, that her hard work would pay off, but later in high school, she found her immigration status to be a barrier to college and other opportunities.

"That's when my peers started getting jobs, or internships, or professional experience. They started driving, and I couldn't do that," said Guerra, who went to North High School. "I couldn't get a license. I couldn't get a job, so I couldn't have additional money. Volunteering, even stuff like that, I started to have some issues with."

Guerra told the Register she navigated those obstacles by leaning on high school counselors and college advisers for help, answers and guidance with the DACA process.

"I was kind of just going in blind and literally knocking on every door possible," she remembered. She now passes on to students the lesson she carries from that experience: "You have to be the No. 1 person looking out for yourself."

Back at the auditorium, Cervantes continued to tell families about his freshman year. Under the stage spotlight, he walked them through the difficult moments that had led him there and also told of the people who believed in him and wouldn't let him quit. In Spanish and English, Cervantes once more told students they can and they will.

"I want to remind you that you're not alone," he said. "You have a community that believes in you and is invested in your success."

F. Amanda Tugade covers social justice issues for the Des Moines Register. Email her at ftugade@dmreg.com or follow her on Twitter @writefelissa .

This article originally appeared on Des Moines Register: As the youngest population in Iowa, Latinos are finding success through education