Abstract
This article explores age equity as a fundamental pillar of collective liberation. Drawing upon 15 years of experience in intersectional movement work—spanning racial justice, environmental equity, and immigrant rights—the author argues that a society connected by aging must actively work to dismantle racism and systemic oppression. By centering the lived experiences of LGBTQ+ individuals and immigrants and reflecting upon his journey of “dignified self-repatriation” to Mexico, he proposes a vision where aging is treated not as a privilege for the few, but as a journey of purpose and connection for all.
Key Words
age equity, intersectional, racial justice, environmental equity, immigrant rights, LGBTQ+, BIPOC elders
For more than 20 years, my life’s work has been rooted in the soil of movement-building. From the streets of Boyle Heights to the strategy rooms of philanthropic foundations, I have operated at the intersections of racial justice, environmental equity, and immigrant rights. My lens is not that of a traditional ageland perspective, but of a community organizer who has witnessed firsthand how we are stronger together. I have seen what happens when communities bridge the gaps of geography, legal status, and generation to fight for a shared future.
As a guest contributor to the American Society on Aging’s Generations Journal with the theme of a “A Bold Vision for Aging,” we are called to envision a society connected, rather than divided, by aging. To me, envisioning a world without ageism is synonymous with envisioning a connected world that is actively working to collectively end racism and abolish the systems of oppression that fragment our humanity.
Beyond the Checkbox: Aging as Intersectionality
In social justice movements, we often speak of intersectionality as a framework for understanding how overlapping identities, race, gender, class, and sexuality interact with systems of power. But in the professional field of aging, diversity is too often treated as a secondary thought, a marker of success, or a demographic to be managed.
My vision for a connected society is one where LGBTQ+ individuals, immigrants, Black and Indigenous people, and marginalized communities are included in the same breath as the idea of aging itself. We cannot talk about “growing old” without talking about who has been historically denied the right to do so with safety and dignity.
When we look at the systemic barriers faced by undocumented elders or the isolation of queer older adults, we see that ageism is not an isolated prejudice; it is a tool of division that relies upon existing hierarchies. A truly connected society recognizes that the struggle against ageism is inextricably linked to the struggle against white supremacy, neoliberalism, and xenophobia. We are stronger together because our liberation is bound together.
Borders as Barriers to the Lifespan
My perspective is deeply informed by my own journey. After 43 years of living in the United States as an undocumented immigrant, I recently made the radical choice of “dignified self-repatriation” to Mexico. For decades, I lived in a “cage” of legal precarity, contributing to a society that refused to guarantee my security as I aged.
Envisioning a world where a person’s value is not tied to their productivity or their proximity to youth and whiteness.
Borders do more than just divide nations; they fracture the timeline of a human life. For the undocumented, aging is often a series of missed milestones. It is the birthday party you couldn’t attend because travel was a risk, the anniversary celebrated over a flickering video call, the funeral of a patriarch or matriarch that you watched through a screen because a line on a map dictated your presence was illegal.
When we talk about a world connected by aging, we are talking about a world where the social fabric is not shredded by immigration status. A connected world allows people to create memories in person, to hold the hand of a dying elder, and to welcome a new grandchild without the shadow of a deportation order. My move to Guadalajara was a refusal to let a border dictate the quality of my later years. It was an act of reclaiming the right to be present, physically, emotionally, and culturally, with my roots.
Movement Work as a Blueprint for Connection
In my background as a grassroots organizer and a DEI practitioner, I have learned that connection is not a passive state; it is an active practice. It requires us to dismantle the silos that keep generations and identities apart.
During my time in the environmental justice movement in East Los Angeles, the most powerful moments of connection occurred when we realized that the toxins in our soil didn’t care about the resident’s age. We saw grandmothers standing side-by-side with teenagers because they understood that a threat to one was a threat to all. This is the model for a society connected by aging: a recognition of our linked fate.
More recently, in my leadership work, I have focused on bringing the praxis of movement work, the integration of theory and action, into strategic planning. By centering the lived experiences of those most impacted by systemic neglect, we move away from paternalistic models of serving older adults and toward a model of collective power and impact. In my practice, centering lived experience means intentionally dismantling the traditional academic hierarchies that often gatekeep expertise. I have found that true connection begins when we lean into the discomfort of tough stories, the raw, unfiltered narratives of migration and survival, and meet in that middle space where our shared humanity outweighs our different backgrounds. By accepting this middle point, we shift from merely studying a person’s struggle to centering their inherent dignity and strength as the primary driver of our strategy. In this vision, aging is not a period of decline to be managed, but a move through life defined by purpose.
Conclusion: The Strategic Northstar
A bold vision for the next 50 years of aging must be one of radical inclusion. It requires us to build a world where a person’s value is not tied to their productivity or their proximity to youth and whiteness.
To achieve true age equity, we must move beyond inviting marginalized people to the table and instead empower LGBTQ+, immigrant, and BIPOC elders to design the room. This begins by dismantling academic hierarchies and using decentralized frameworks, like Liberating Structures, where the narrative of a 70-year-old immigrant carries the same strategic weight as a policy brief.
We build collective strength through intergenerational co-governance, allowing queer elders and young activists to serve as mutual mentors who repair the social fragmentation caused by ageism. Finally, we must treat language and cultural sovereignty as essential infrastructure, ensuring that tough stories and ancestral protocols are the starting point for every conversation, so no one is forced to leave their identity at the door to find connection.
When we work to end ageism, we are working to end the fragmentation of the human experience. We are building a world where we can all show up for each other, ensuring that the journey of aging is one of connection, belonging, and collective liberation.
Hector Alessandro Negrete is the executive director of the Old School Hub, a strategist, philanthropist, communicator and thought partner who now lives in Guadalajara, Mexico.
