The virus had reached a level unseen since May, when cases finally began dwindling and the county’s positivity rate fell below five percent. The highly contagious Delta variant, alongside lagging vaccination rates among eligible groups, has continued to spur an explosion of new cases across the nation. With the county’s positivity rate back up to an alarming 22 percent as of  Aug. 1, 2021, Hidalgo has joined many other elected leaders, including Pres. Joe Biden, urging the unvaccinated to stay home and wear a mask in public. 

At the press conference announcing her decision on Aug. 5, 2021, Hidalgo said, in her characteristically measured tone: “We find ourselves retracing our steps toward the edge of a cliff.” 

Indeed, for Hidalgo, there’s a strong sense of deja-vu. Back in March 2020, when concepts like “social distancing” and “quarantine” were newly entering our vocabulary, Hidalgo recommended implementing a strict mask mandate. When Texas Governor Greg Abbott and other notable Republicans publicly battled her, calling her recommendation “the ultimate government overreach” and a “draconian” order that could “lead to unjust tyranny,” the then-29-year-old was launched into the state and national limelight.

As cases kept rising and hospitals overflowed, Hidalgo stood firm in promoting precaution. Finally, in June, Abbott did a 180 and began urging Texans to heed the advice Hidalgo had preached for months. 

A year later, the county is experiencing roughly the same number of COVID-19 hospitalizations as in June 2020. Nonetheless, Abbott has maintained his July 2021 executive order banning mask and vaccine mandates in favor of “personal responsibility.” 

That hasn’t stopped the County Judge. On the contrary, it has only made Hidalgo more determined. 

Hidalgo never imagined she would become the first Latina and first woman elected to Harris County’s chief executive position. In fact, she never imagined she’d enter American politics at all. 

Born in Bogotá in the early ‘90s, when Colombia was in the grip of drug trafficking violence, Hidalgo and her family moved to Peru, then Mexico City, before finally immigrating to Houston in 2005. In 2013, she celebrated two major milestones: becoming a U.S. citizen and earning her bachelor’s degree in political science from Stanford University. 

“I thought I wanted to do some sort of international development work,” Hidalgo remembered. “Supporting activists, supporting journalists abroad — folks that I’d worked with when I was in college and after I graduated. I was just seeing really brave people in developing countries, in countries that don’t have strong democracies, just fight and be arrested or intimidated for wanting to pursue democratic government and promote free expression. So I was inspired by these folks. I wanted to support them.” 

But then, in 2016, when Donald Trump was elected president, something clicked for Hidalgo. It was a wake-up call. She realized, if Trump could be elected, perhaps she “could be the one making the decisions and making the policy, as opposed to working outside the system to try and mold it in a better direction.” 

It was a determination fueled by indignation. “It’d be hard to imagine that it didn’t have something to do with Trump’s attacks on women, attacks on Hispanics, attacks on immigrants, attacks on policy making writ large,” Hidalgo said.

The Harris County Judge position was perfect, Hidalgo realized, because it meant controlling a $5 million budget and, as a result, the priorities and values of the county government. Her revolutionary idea? To transform what was basically a managerial role into one capable of creating sweeping structural changes: to strengthen public health, expand public transportation, reform criminal justice and mitigate the effects of climate change. 

(Mark Mulligan/Houston Chronicle via AP)

When she told her family she wanted to run, Hidalgo was slightly embarrassed. “It was such an out-of-character idea for me and just saying, ‘I believe I deserve to be an elected political leader’…it’s like, ‘what makes you worthy?’” But neither her mom nor her close friends batted an eye. She had their full support. 

As for the rest of Texas, on the other hand, convincing them that an immigrant in graduate school with no political experience could do a better job than the widely-liked Republican incumbent, Ed Emmett, was no easy task. But Hidalgo’s Houston pride was much stronger than it might have appeared at first. 

“A lot of people in this country and in this community weren’t necessarily born here,” Hidalgo said. “They may not have had the exact same upbringing that I did, we may not share a cultural, racial, or ethnic background, but we share this idea of coming to a place that we love and making it our home and wanting to give back,” she pointed out.

Lina Hidalgo and her parents at Hidalgo’s high school graduation.

When it comes to leading a county with 1.1 million foreign-born immigrants in a city that’s been named the most diverse in America, Hidalgo, who was elected in 2018, has been more than up to the task. 

“When I sit at the dais, I think I bring my perspective not just as a woman, not just as a young person, but also as someone with this lived experience of [being] an immigrant, of having different perspectives from different places,” she said. 

Moreover, she said, it helps her “recognize that the way things have always been done is not necessarily the best way; that there isn’t just one perspective or just one way of doing things.”

Part of doing things differently has included giving press conferences in both Spanish and English, in order to ensure important messages reach the more than 2 million Hispanic residents in her county. For Hidalgo, who once worked as an interpreter, the switch comes naturally. While the majority of the community has welcomed it, some critics have derisively nicknamed her “Dora the Explorer,” while other high-ranking leaders have told her: “This is not Mexico. Speak English.” 

“There’s no denying that there’s been a little bit — or a lot — of xenophobia that’s been fostered ever since the campaign of Donald Trump in particular,” Hidalgo said.  “ [But] for a community like ours, we can’t let that happen, because we’re so diverse. We can’t have those kinds of divisions. So when folks were trying to blame the Asian community for COVID, we did a lot of work to say, ‘no, this is something that’s affecting all of us.’”

Although she’s a rising Democratic star, often compared to New York Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Hidalgo maintains that she is committed to helping all of her constituents, across ideologies. 

“I’m proud of all communities in Harris County, and I work as hard as I can to try and make clear that I represent everyone, whatever their background, whatever their political persuasion,” she said. 

Throughout the uncertainties of the pandemic, one mission has been central for Hidalgo: to protect her county as best as possible from the virus. When it comes to vaccinations, that first meant creating a “fair process”: bringing vaccines directly to over 300 communities, using randomized selection to schedule appointments and giving people rides to vaccination sites. Now, as supply has overtaken demand, it’s about advocating for vaccination in the first place.

Alarmingly, African Americans and Latinos in Harris County are particularly behind in COVID-19 vaccination rates, despite bearing the brunt of the pandemic’s ramifications. This reflects a broader, nationwide trend.

Hidalgo has enlisted the same volunteers who helped with the U.S. census count months prior to ensure every community and micro-community is targeted for vaccine distribution. “And of course we’re doing raffles — we’re giving away one weekly scholarship for kids under 18,” she explained. “For folks who are getting vaccines at mass vaccination sites, they can get gift cards, tickets to big-time concerts. So we’re doing everything, basically.”

Money talks, COVID walks. Our $100 vaccine incentive is working. Yesterday, demand for vaccines more than TRIPLED, and future slots are filling up fast. Register at https://t.co/qS98pi06fL or 832-927-8787. pic.twitter.com/02yVDhf0B9

— Lina Hidalgo (@LinaHidalgoTX) August 19, 2021

For Hidalgo, these persistent efforts are a small way to live out the big ideals that have always driven her work, from her days helping journalists abroad, to her service as a legal interpreter.

“[It’s about] helping build a community where everybody has opportunity; where there’s justice, where there’s fairness,” she said. “And that, I think, comes from my experiences growing up in places where it felt like that wasn’t the case.”

“These fights are never won. You have to keep defending the gains. And trying to make more gains. People forget. People forget why folks fought for democracy,” she warned. “They don’t remember how fragile it is, so it’s incumbent on every generation to protect that and remind everybody else why it’s important.”

The post Lina Hidalgo Can’t be Stopped appeared first on Latina.

Her latest single, ‘Go With You,’ begins with a guitar riff whose steadily-rising tempo sounds like swimming up to the surface. Rubio’s crisp vocals are like the breath of fresh air we all need after the past year-and-a-half of pandemic life. With lyrics like, “Take it all, take it all/ ‘Till we all fall down/ My heart’s in your arms/ And I’ll go with you,” her staccato chorus is the perfect summer anthem for the love-struck and hopeful — or for those of us who wish we were. 

Although she counts Linkin Park, Incubus, Natalia Lafourcade, Paramore, and Twenty One Pilots (tattooed on her hand) as influences, twenty-year-old Rubio has already carved out a niche in her own right. So much so that she caught the attention of Omar Apollo, who she’ll be joining during his upcoming ‘Desvelado’ tour across North America. We sat down with Rubio to learn more about how her Mexican identity has shaped her trajectory, what her creative process looks like, and what things she can’t live without. 

You’ve mentioned before that your mom had you when she was 19, and that you moved a lot as a result. What helped you adapt to those changes? Was there a place you lived in that you liked in particular?

I moved around a lot as a kid, but what was nice is that I always stayed in the same little circle of California, in the South Bay. So it wasn’t too hard [to adapt]. I got these tastes of every tiny little city in my city.

I loved growing up in Gardena, which is just a cute, quaint little town. There are a lot of families, very Asian and Mexican, and that’s where my grandma has a business. She runs a maid service company, which is really funny because, being Mexican, that’s what I was made fun of for.

Growing up, did you always know you wanted to be a singer-songwriter? 

I always knew I was going to be a singer. I guess technically when I was ten I thought I was going to be a chef. I asked for a food processor for Christmas and when I got it, I started crying. I wanted a real food processor because the Barefoot Contessa had one — she used it for all her, you know, whatever, purees, and I was like, “I’ll be a real chef if I get one of these!” And then I realized, you get really hot cooking; I don’t think this is right for me. 

So I started writing. Because I just loved school, and I couldn’t cook anymore. That probably swayed me into, ‘Oh music is amazing. I love writing. Let’s just do that — forever.’

Was your family supportive of that dream?

Surprisingly, yes. I’m first-generation Mexican. My grandma wanted to be a singer growing up. So I think, for her, when she found out that her nieta could sing, she was like, “Okay what can we do with this?” You know what I mean? She was schemin’ on how to make it work, like Selena’s family [who rallied around Selena’s dreams]. 

She told me, ‘We can’t make you a family van, but we can do something.” *Laughs* And so she’d come home from work and take me to vocal lessons. That’s just kinda how it started. They were super, super, super, super, super receptive. And believing. It’s very rare. 

Photography by Natalia Mantini

What would you say your connection to your Mexican roots is like right now?

I mean, very strong. My mom didn’t really teach me how to speak Spanish because she came from the time of ‘We need to acclimate.’ And ‘We don’t teach our kids how to speak Spanish. We need to become American.’ And my grandma and grandpa were like, “I don’t believe in that. At all. We are proud Mexicans, here in America, and we’re gonna do our shit, and you’re gonna learn how to speak Spanish.”

So it was actually one of the rules of me doing music. Grandpa said, “I’ll take you to singing lessons. But you have to sing in Spanish. And you’re moving into grandma and grandpa’s house. No more this whole, mom, white-washing thing.”

Do you think you’ll ever write or perform a song of your own in Spanish?

I have a song on the EP [coming out this summer] that’s in Spanish. 

So, my [latest] single, ‘Go With You,’ is the first song I ever did with my producer Andy. I wasn’t ready to go into writing in Spanish, but I knew I was going to, and I wasn’t trustworthy of a producer yet to do that with me. Because I feel like there’s a sense of insecurity, if someone isn’t also Mexican; it’s very rare to find someone who can produce what you want, who understands your culture and roots. 

And meeting Andy and writing the whole [EP] with him, it was one of the last songs we did. He had probably spent a year listening to all the references I sent him — Natalia [Lafourcade], Alejandra Guzman — and I had told him, “This is what I mean by music in Spanish.”

Tell me more about ‘Go With You.’ What was the inspiration behind that?

Wanting to be in love, and falling in love with someone, and telling them that you’re willing to travel the world and do everything with them. That’s what it feels like. It’s very hopeful. Most of my songs on this EP are very hopeful because we were in a pandemic and I couldn’t fathom writing sad songs, because I just couldn’t be more depressed in my bedroom. I needed to write music that was gonna make me feel like everything was gonna be okay.

I saw on your Twitter that you’ve been an outspoken supporter of the Black Lives Matter movement. Given the double crisis of the pandemic and the mass cultural reckoning of that 2020 summer and before, I’m wondering, what was that like for you?

That was a very hard time, I think, for everyone in the world. I think the BLM movement was so important, and is so important currently, but specifically during the pandemic, [as a time] for people’s voices to be heard online. For people to shut up. There were a lot of beautiful things that happened — in the midst of the chaos and the horrible, horrible, horrible things — where Black artists’ voices were able to be heard. It’s one of the reasons why I didn’t put out music during that time. I thought, ‘This is not my time. This is not for me to speak, to sing my rock music.’ I think a lot of people just took a step back and reflected.

You know, coming from a deeply Hispanic family who lived in Inglewood, and Compton, and Hawthorne, I saw all the bullshit that can happen. I took the bus with my mom growing up and I saw Black men getting taken off the bus for absolutely no reason. Just bullshit. And it’s like, ‘Okay, everyone’s kind of noticing this right now.’ The racism that’s happening in this world. 

You know, it’s hard. It’s really hard. I remember it just being another thing where you’re just like, ‘Fuck. Okay. When we get back into this, how do we make this better?’ 

Photography by Natalia Mantini

I saw that you’re going on tour with Omar Apollo, which is amazing. What must-have item do you think you’ll take with you on the tour? 

Lotion. You gotta have your Lubriderm. I’m sorry. Any girl comin’ out of a Mexican household knows that if their auntie or uncle saw them with ashy-ass elbows they’d be like, “Where’s your Lubriderm?”

I [also] have a secret that I can’t tell anyone. But it’s a culture thing. So when I’m on stage, I’ll have a very specific thing on, every now and again, that is very significant to being Mexican. Being Latina. And when someone points it out, it’ll be funny. I can’t wait for that. *Laughs*

And [maybe] some pearls. I have to be close to the ocean. At all times.

What does success look like to you? Where do you hope Niko Rubio is in five, ten years?

It’s the constant question of, what is enough? Because I could say [win] five Grammy’s and that’s great, but I think, internally, I’m starting to understand and feel where my threshold is gonna be. Is it a McMansion in the Hills? Or is it being able to live? And be happy? 

I think that I imagine myself being able to support my family. And, whether or not it’s with a Grammy, I really want to do, in five years, my own solo tour. I really want to have a clothing line. And at least be in Vogue, twice. *Laughs* Those are my goals. 

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