Opinion: Outreach to Latino communities must start before you even speak

There was a time, early in my career when I thought messaging was mostly about words. What we say, how clearly we say it, and the content we deliver.

That idea didn’t survive long.

Spend enough time engaging with Latino communities across Los Angeles, knocking on doors, attending church hall meetings, sitting with abuelas who’ve lived in the same house for fifty years and you learn quickly: communication is rarely about the words.

It’s about how you show up.

Latino communities, especially in urban immigrant neighborhoods, are what communication experts describe as high-context cultures. That’s a fancy way of saying this: we read meaning in gestures, facial expressions, tone, pace, and body language.

Words come second.

This matters more than people realize, especially in moments of tension, confusion, or emotional vulnerability. When someone from the city or county shows up at your door with a flyer about water usage, tenant protections, or vaccines, the household isn’t evaluating your talking points. They’re watching the way you stand. The look on your face.

The warmth, or lack of it in your tone.

And by the time you speak, the tone has already been set.

Let me give you a real-world example.

Imagine someone knocks on your door. You peek through the blinds. You’re unsure.

Now imagine that person is standing a little too close. No smile. Clipboard tight against their chest. Posture stiff. You open the door because you’re polite, but your guard is up. And when they start speaking, it doesn’t really matter what they say, as you’re already in self-protection mode.

Now picture a different knock. The person steps back respectfully. They smile, just enough to acknowledge your presence, not perform for it. Their posture is open, their face attentive. They say “Good morning” like they mean it.

That person hasn’t earned your trust. But they haven’t lost it either. And that makes all the difference.

Here’s what research tells us: people resist messages when they feel manipulated or disrespected. A 2015 article by Marieke Fransen and others shows that when people feel their autonomy is threatened even subtly, they either tune out, push back, or reinterpret what you’re saying to fit their own narrative.

This dynamic is magnified in communities that have been historically marginalized.

For Latinos, particularly in Los Angeles County, there’s a long memory of being overlooked or over-policed. So when someone shows up with information, especially from the government, the question isn’t just “What are you telling me?” It’s “Do you see me?”

In my work, thousands of hours in the field, I’ve seen this play out time and again. Sometimes a conversation begins not with a fact sheet, but with a question about the family photo hanging in the hallway. Sometimes the most meaningful exchange happens because someone paused, not to respond, but to listen, really listen.

And when that happens, something shifts. People start talking. But more importantly, they start sharing about problems in their neighborhood, frustrations with the city, and worries they’ve carried for years with no one to tell. Some have offered me bottled water from their fridges, homemade lunch from their kitchens, and on more than one occasion,a hug at the doorway.

In those moments, you realize: this isn’t outreach. This is relationship.

Latinos don’t just want to be heard. They want to know that what they say matters to the person listening.

That their story is worth the time it takes to tell. That their concerns aren’t being tallied—they’re being felt.

This isn’t just good outreach. It’s human decency.

And yet, far too often, institutions default to efficiency over empathy. We rush. We read from scripts. We check boxes. And then we wonder why the message didn’t land.

But the message did land. Just not the one we meant to send.

There’s no training manual that teaches the exact angle of eye contact or the precise weight of a nod. But there is a mindset that guides this kind of communication: thoughtful facial expressions, warm tone, culturally grounded gestures, and real listening.

These aren’t soft skills. They’re essential, especially in Latino communities, where trust isn’t given to institutions, it’s earned by people who show up with presence and respect.

People deserve to feel understood before they’re asked to understand.

So if your message isn’t landing, maybe the question isn’t “What went wrong with them?”
Maybe it’s: “What was missing from me?”

Lead with humanity, and everything else—policy, programs, data—has a far better chance of being received.

Because at the end of the day, we’re not just offering information. We’re offering connection. And in communities that have spent decades feeling unseen, connection is the message.

Raul A. Riesgo is vice president of The Merino Group, a leading public affairs and communications firm in Los Angeles.