For years, Latinos in Action, often called “LIA,” has been a program where students mentor younger kids, organize community projects, and build leadership skills while celebrating their culture. But now, the program is facing a new challenge: the U.S. Department of Education is pressuring schools to cut ties with it, claiming it’s discriminatory against non-Latino students. Federal officials point to a supposed 80% Latino enrollment guideline, and districts that refuse to comply risk losing millions in funding.
Cypress Bay High School, located in Broward County, Florida, where there are 44 LIA programs across middle and high schools, is among those forced to shut down.
Though for students like Isabella Serna, the program was never about exclusion. It was about empowerment, inclusivity, and community. “From the very beginning, I saw LIA as more than a club. It was a training ground for young leaders, a place where we learned that our culture and our service could be a source of empowerment, not limitation,” Serna said.
I attended the same high school as Serna and even joined LIA for some time. I was never as involved in the program as her, but I can tell you that LIA is more than just an extracurricular: it’s about fostering a community of service while building on individual culture and identity.
Serna first joined LIA when she was in middle school and said it quickly became part of her identity. When she was in high school, she even served as Vice President of the chapter. For Serna, LIA was more than mentorship; it was a pipeline for leadership. It turned her identity into a strength rather than a limitation. “Being Latina didn’t hold me back,” she explained. “It gave me power.”
She later commented that LIA gave her a sense of belonging and purpose. “It showed me that leadership wasn’t reserved for adults in boardrooms; it was something we could practice as teenagers through service, mentoring, and community impact.”
Stories like Serna’s highlight why many students are frustrated by the Department of Education’s decision. While federal officials focus on a supposed “quota system,” alumni insist that the program was open and inclusive.
“At Cypress Bay High School, our chapter welcomed anyone who wanted to be part of serving the community. There was no quota, no exclusion, no barriers to entry beyond maintaining a GPA high enough to effectively mentor younger students. In fact, we had members who weren’t Latino at all, but they shared the same passion for service and leadership. The heart of LIA was inclusivity; it was about impact, not labels … the focus was always on meeting the needs of the children we served, not on excluding who could join,” Serna shared.
When asked how she felt about the program shutting down, Serna said, “To reduce the program to a false narrative of exclusion undermines the opportunities it gave students to grow into the professionals they are today.”
Serna’s story is one of many across Broward County and beyond. For hundreds of students, LIA wasn’t just another elective; it was a community that gave them a reason. Losing it doesn’t just mean losing a fun class. It means losing a space where students could see their culture reflected as a source of strength.
As someone who’s watched this unfold, I can’t help but think about how different high school feels without spaces like this. For so many of us, representation in school isn’t a luxury: it’s a lifeline, and having that taken away on claims of discrimination is upsetting.
As Serna pointed out, the program empowered students. LIA is not about creating an exclusive club; it’s about forming a group, giving them tools to succeed, and in turn “helping entire communities thrive.”
Serna reflected on one project that she worked on: the diaper drive for mothers in need. It sounds simple, but it was real. By organizing the drive, LIA students were able to provide essential supplies to over 80 mothers struggling to care for their children. Serna remembers seeing the look of gratitude on their faces, and, in that moment, realizing “how much power young people have to create change in their communities.”
Looking back as someone who has “entered corporate America and successfully secured internships,” Serna can say, without hesitation, that LIA was the reason. “It was the first time I understood that being Latina, being bilingual, and being a servant leader were strengths, not limitations.”
Today, when she walks into professional spaces, Serna doesn’t hesitate to highlight her identity as a Latina. That confidence, she says, comes directly from LIA. For her, shutting down the program isn’t just a policy decision; it’s a setback for everyone who believes schools should be places of empowerment, not exclusion.
Taking away programs like LIA doesn’t just silence a club. It silences the confidence and leadership skills that students should be developing, especially at that age.
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