An interview with Araceli Lopez-Andrade, Deputy Director, LIFT-Los Angeles
What does “home” mean to you, and how has that meaning changed throughout your journey? For me, home has always been more than a place—it’s been a feeling, a rhythm, a scent in the kitchen, the sound of cumbia and salsa music, and the quiet strength of my parent’s prayers. Born in Mexico and raised in Los Angeles, I’ve learned that home is something we carry with us. It’s evolved from a small apartment not far from our LIFT office, it was filled with dreams and struggle to the community I now help build through my work not too far from where I first started my journey in this country. Today, home is also my husband, step-daughter and 9-year-old daughter’s laughter and singing echoing through our space, a reminder of why I do what I do.
Can you share a memory that shaped the way you lead or connect with others today during this difficult time?
I remember being 12, translating for my parents at a government office, trying to make sense of systems that weren’t built for us. That moment—feeling both powerful and overwhelmed—taught me the importance of bilingualism, and advocacy. It’s why I lead with empathy and why I never assume someone’s silence means they don’t have something to say. I see that young girl in so many of the families I serve, and I lead with her in mind.
Another memory etched in my heart: I was just a child, about 10 or 12, watching over my siblings after school in our small apartment. I would anxiously glance at the clock, praying my parents would walk through the door by 6 p.m.—because if they didn’t, I knew I had to call my grandmother. That was the signal they may have been detained by ICE at their factory job. These moments shaped me deeply—and now I lead with that girl in mind.
What were some of the hopes you or your family carried when you migrated?
My parents migrated with a simple but profound hope: opportunity—not just for themselves, but for their children. They dreamed that we would become personas de bien—good people who contribute to society, honor their culture, and lead with honesty, dignity, and compassion. They didn’t want us to have to choose between survival and dreams.
They hoped to build a foundation where we, and generations after us, could thrive—free of the barriers they endured because of language, immigration status, or the color of our skin. That vision became my compass. It carried me through college, into social work, and into leadership. I carry that hope today with more tools, more clarity, and a louder voice—because I am a cycle breaker.
In challenging moments, what or who helped you stay grounded but also focused on the work?
My daughter keeps me grounded. Her presence is my daily reminder that this work isn’t abstract—it’s personal. My community, my ancestors, and the resilient women who came before me remind me who I am and where I come from.
And the families I serve at LIFT—they are my inspiration. Their strength and tenacity fuel my own. Even in the darkest moments, they remind me why I rise every day—
How does your migrant experience influence the way you show up in your work at LIFT?
My migrant experience informs everything. I don’t just understand the barriers our families face—I’ve lived them. I show up with cultural humility, with deep listening, and with an unwavering commitment to dismantling systems that were never built for us.
I bring my full self—my accent, my story, my dual identity as a Chicana and a social worker—into every room I enter. I lead with corazón (heart), and I build with purpose.
What message would you share with families who are navigating similar journeys today?
You are not alone. Your story matters. Your strength is real—even if the world doesn’t always see it. Keep dreaming, even when it feels impossible. There is power in your roots, and a community—like LIFT—ready to walk with you every step of the way.
I see you. I believe in you. And we are building a future where your children don’t just survive, they thrive. You are worthy of that future—because you, too, are a cycle breaker.