Claire Valdéz, Diana Moreno and Darializa Ávila Chevalier.GETTY / EL PAÍS
CARLA GLORIA COLOMÉ
New York - AUG 31, 2026 - 07:41 EDT
On the cover of issue number 304 of The Indypendent, a “free and progressive” paper printed on gray stock that New Yorkers pick up in libraries, laundromats, conference rooms and subway stations, Claire Valdez and Darializa Ávila Chevalier appeared back to back, both with broad smiles, in those June days when Mayor Zohran Mamdani endorsed them in the state Democratic primaries. When they finally became the nominees for the November congressional elections, Valdez and Chevalier grabbed the issue of The Indypendent, recreated their poses from the cover in person—victorious and amazed that the future had been sketched out for them in advance. One striking detail: both were Latina, the former of Mexican roots; the latter a daughter of Dominican parents. Both alternated Spanish and English on the campaign trail, self-identify as socialists, and worry about the things that concern people like themselves these days: that immigration enforcement might take a neighbor, or that paychecks won’t stretch to the end of the month.
Shortly after the primaries, the Instagram page DSA Latinos Socialistas invited everyone to a conversation where they would sell Venezuelan empanadas and, at the same time, raise funds to help Venezuelans who survived the earthquakes. Four panelists were scheduled for the talk: Ecuadorian Diana Moreno, who had filled Mamdani’s vacated seat as state assembly member for Queens’s 36th District; Illapa Sairitupac, the son of indigenous Peruvian immigrants whom Mamdani also backed and who won the Democratic primary for Assembly District 65; Claire Valdez, running for the 7th Congressional District seat; and Darializa Ávila Chevalier, the candidate for the 13th. A poster in large letters read: “Latina socialist politics in New York: a new era.” They were coining the idea that times had changed.
They were all fresh faces, people in their thirties; none yet had the look or cadence of a conventional politician. They came from roles as community organizers, artists, PhD students, political science graduates and social workers. Politics had not yet left its mark on them, they had not promised anything they hadn’t delivered, and so people went out to vote for them to get rid of the old establishment players. They were part of—and also a product of—the aura Mamdani left in an election that revived the American left, and therefore shared what, as a generation and as members of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA), others also defended: rejecting any money from the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC), condemning the genocide in Gaza, and pushing for more affordable cities.
But one thing set Latino politicians apart from their colleagues: when they talked about abolishing the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency, or ICE, they did not see the idea only as a necessary political stance but as the possibility of ending an agency that detains and deports migrants; migrants were, and are, their own families, friends or neighbors. “At parties or at the dinner table we talked about how much it costs to change immigration status, whether the neighbor was having trouble with immigration authorities. That’s how politics was talked about in my house,” Chevalier told EL PAÍS, recalling the days when she was still a girl born in Miami.
When these candidates talk about labor rights, they do so after having been employed and paid very little themselves: “I’ve had to work since I was 14,” Valdez says; she grew up in Lubbock, in northwest Texas. “I worked in fast-food restaurants and supermarkets. Once, at a Taco Bell, I messed up an order and my manager put those tacos in front of my face and said: you just wasted seven dollars of our product. He threw them in the trash in a very dramatic way to make me feel bad. I was paid $7.25 an hour, so those three tacos were worth an hour of my life.”
These new Latino politicians come from families that invested time and money so their children could study; they later moved, came to New York, and are now holding or seeking federal or state office. It’s not that they were the first Latinos in local or national politics: by then there were already names like Tiffany Cabán, Alexa Avilés, Marcela Mitaynes, Jessica González-Rojas, Kristen González, and the prominent figure Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, but more were joining at a moment they described as very particular.
