On a bright Tuesday afternoon in Phoenix, a steady stream of people made their way toward a familiar community gathering spot, not for a festival or a protest, but for something just as meaningful: the simple act of casting a ballot. The sidewalk outside the event, organized by Mi Familia en Accion, was lined with volunteers holding clipboards and water bottles, offering directions and words of encouragement to voters who had arrived with purpose in their eyes. Music played softly in the background, mixing with the warm hum of conversations in Spanish and English. For Jesus Sarabia, the scene felt more like a family reunion than a political event. He was one of dozens of voters taking part in Tuesday’s “Party to the Polls,” a community-driven effort designed to make voting feel less intimidating and more like a shared, joyful responsibility. “It means a lot because, I mean, that means they’re getting informed, they’re getting more confident,” Sarabia said, watching as neighbors greeted one another warmly, some holding their children’s hands, others clutching small papers listing their ballot choices. In a state where elections are often decided by razor-thin margins, this kind of gathering is not just about convenience; it is about belonging. For many Latino voters in the Valley, especially those who were not born in the United States, showing up at the polls is a powerful statement that their voice matters. And yet, behind the festive atmosphere, there is a darker reality: a wave of election misinformation is swirling around these very communities, often in Spanish, designed to confuse, discourage, and manipulate. Researchers are increasingly concerned that language gaps are leaving Spanish-speaking voters dangerously exposed to false political claims. The event, however, was built on the belief that knowledge is the best defense. With voting underway and Election Day approaching, organizations like Mi Familia en Accion are working hard to ensure that no voter is left behind—not because they don’t care, but because they were never given the tools to see through the noise.
At the center of this effort is Monica Sandschafer, the director of Mi Familia en Accion in Phoenix. Her organization has long been a trusted bridge between government and community, providing information on voting, public policy, and legal rights ahead of Election Day. But Sandschafer emphasizes that the work is not about telling anyone how to vote; it is about making sure voters feel equipped to make their own informed decisions. “Those things that they’re personally worried about, the things that impact their families are decided by politicians, are decided by the elections,” she said. That simple but profound truth is what motivates her team to go out into neighborhoods, host events, and meet voters where they are. The group primarily focuses on first-time voters and immigrants who are exercising their right to vote for the first time. For many of these individuals, the American electoral system can feel unfamiliar and even overwhelming. They may be navigating language barriers, uncertain about identification requirements, or unsure how to research candidates and ballot measures. Some come from countries where voting is dangerous or where elections are not trustworthy, and they carry the weight of those experiences with them. Sandschafer and her team understand this deeply. They know that trust is not automatic; it must be earned through consistent, respectful presence. That is why events like “Party to the Polls” are designed to be welcoming and stress-free. Voters can drop off their ballots, ask questions, and receive help on the spot. They can also connect with volunteers who speak their language and share their cultural background, making the process feel less like an institution and more like a neighborhood support system. For a first-time voter, the difference can be huge. Walking into a polling place alone can be intimidating; walking into a community gathering where everyone is rooting for you is empowering. Sarabia spoke about the growing confidence he sees in his community. “They’re getting informed, they’re getting more confident,” he said. That confidence, many believe, is the antidote to the skepticism and fear that misinformation seeks to breed. When people understand their rights and the issues, they are less likely to be pushed around by false narratives. They can ask tough questions, spot inconsistencies, and make choices based on their real needs rather than on someone else’s agenda. In a time when information is fragmented and trust in institutions is fragile, this community-centered approach is more necessary than ever.
The stakes of this work are underscored by recent research on how misinformation spreads among Latino communities. Marisa Abrajano, a political science professor at UC San Diego, has spent years studying how voters encounter and respond to political falsehoods. Her findings paint a troubling picture: Spanish-speaking Latinos who rely on social media in Spanish for news and information are significantly more likely to believe false political narratives. Part of the problem is structural. Major social media platforms, including Meta, have acknowledged that they do not have the same fact-checking algorithms in non-English languages that they have in English. This means content in Spanish is less likely to be flagged, removed, or corrected, leaving it to circulate freely in digital spaces where people already feel a sense of community and trust. Abrajano noted that this is not just a problem of translation; it is a problem of attention. Disinformation campaigns can tailor messages specifically to Spanish-speaking audiences, wrapping them in cultural references, familiar concerns, and even the same visual cues that legitimate sources use. A fake news story might appear to come from a well-known outlet, or it might be framed in a way that plays on fears about immigration, healthcare, or family safety. For someone who is already skeptical of government and institutions, such content can be persuasive, especially when it arrives through a WhatsApp message from a trusted relative or a social media post from a friend. The result is a community that is not just confronted with misinformation, but actively and deliberately targeted by it. Sandschafer and her colleagues saw this firsthand during the 2024 election cycle. “What we learned in 2024 is that Latino voters and communities were really being targeted with disinformation and misinformation,” she said. The targeting was not random. It was calculated, using the same language and imagery that naturally resonates with Latino families. It exploited gaps in digital literacy, linguistic isolation, and even generational differences. Older voters might share something they believe is helpful, not realizing it is false, and younger voters might struggle to separate fact from fiction in the overwhelming flood of content. Without robust fact-checking in Spanish, the burden falls on community organizations, local media, and everyday people to correct the record. That is a heavy burden, but it is one that groups like Mi Familia en Accion are willing to carry.
In Arizona, the Latino vote is not just a demographic statistic; it is a decisive force. State data shows that one in three Arizona voters is Latino, which means this community has the power to sway an election, sometimes by tens of thousands of votes or more. In a state where statewide races have been decided by fractions of a percentage point, every ballot matters, and every group that can turn out voters can tip the balance. This is precisely why Latino voters have become a prime target for misinformation. Campaigns, both domestic and foreign, understand that if you can depress or distort the vote in a key community, you can change the outcome of an election without ever having to convince a majority of the population. The tactics are not always overtly partisan. Sometimes they take the form of false claims about voting dates, polling locations, or voter eligibility. Other times they are more insidious, suggesting that a ballot is not safe, that one candidate is hostile to immigrants, or that the election is rigged. For a Spanish-speaking voter who is still learning how the system works, these messages can be deeply unsettling. They may decide that voting is too risky, or they may choose a candidate based on a lie rather than on their own interests. The consequences extend beyond any single election. When members of a community feel deceived, they may disengage from civic life altogether, losing faith in the very democracy that is supposed to represent them. Abrajano’s research suggests this is not a marginal phenomenon. Spanish-speaking Latinos who seek news in Spanish are the ones most likely to believe false political narratives, and that belief can shape not only their own vote but also the votes of their families. Social media amplifies this effect, allowing misinformation to travel quickly across networks of friends, relatives, and neighbors. The challenge is to break that cycle before it hardens into distrust. For organizations like Mi Familia en Accion, that means not only correcting falsehoods but also creating spaces where voters can practice asking questions, verifying information, and holding power accountable. It means treating voters as intelligent people who deserve accurate, culturally relevant information, not as passive recipients of slogans. In a state as diverse and fast-growing as Arizona, the ability of the Latino community to make its voice heard is essential to a healthy democracy. But that voice must be based on truth, or it can be co-opted and silenced. The work of countering misinformation is therefore not just about one election; it is about building a foundation for the future.
In the face of these challenges, grassroots organizations are stepping up with a mix of old-fashioned community organizing and modern digital outreach. Mi Familia en Accion, for example, does much more than host events on Election Day. Throughout the year, the group holds workshops on how to register to vote, how to research candidates, and how to identify common types of misinformation. Volunteers are trained to have conversations that are respectful and non-confrontational, focusing on empowerment rather than criticism. When someone shares a suspicious claim, volunteers gently ask where they heard it and offer to look it up together. This approach respects the person’s intelligence while also modeling critical thinking. It is a far more effective strategy than simply telling someone they are wrong, which can cause them to double down on their beliefs. The organization also works with churches, schools, and small businesses to reach people where they already gather. A voter might first encounter Mi Familia en Accion at a health fair, a parent meeting, or a food bank, and later remember that this was a safe place to get information. “Party to the Polls” is the culmination of that trust, turning voting into a collective celebration. At Tuesday’s event, voters were offered not only ballot drop-off assistance but also a sense of belonging. They saw their neighbors, shared stories, and left feeling that they were part of something larger than themselves. These moments matter. They remind people that voting is not a solitary, bureaucratic act but a public expression of hope and identity. The personal connections made at events like this also create a network of information that is more trustworthy than a random social media post. If a friend or neighbor explains how the process works, the information carries more weight than an algorithmically recommended video. That is why organizations like Sandschafer’s invest so heavily in face-to-face relationships. They know that misinformation thrives in isolation, but it withers in community. They also know that the most effective messengers are often the voters themselves. When Jesus Sarabia speaks about his growing confidence, he becomes an example to others. His story is relatable, his words are sincere, and his presence at the polls is proof that participation is possible. In a world of deepfakes and viral lies, human connection remains the most powerful tool for clarity. Sandschafer and her team are using that tool carefully, meeting voters with empathy and respect, and trusting them to make the right choices once they have the facts.
As Election Day approaches, the urgency of this work only grows. Elections officials remind voters that it is now too late to mail in a ballot, but that does not mean it is too late to participate. Anyone who has a ballot can deliver it in person to an official drop-off location, many of which are open through Election Day. For those who have not yet voted, the message from community organizers is simple: do not let confusion or fear steal your voice. The obstacles are real—misinformation is widespread, fact-checking in Spanish is limited, and the pressure on Latino voters is undeniable. But so is the resilience of the community. Across the Valley, volunteers are making phone calls, knocking on doors, and standing outside polling places with encouraging words. Neighbors are helping neighbors find their polling sites. Parents are explaining to their children why democracy matters. Families are sitting at kitchen tables, going through their ballots line by line, and talking through the choices. This is the quiet, powerful side of civic participation that often goes unnoticed. It does not make headlines like a viral fake story, but it builds the foundation for a freer and more honest society. The researchers who study misinformation warn that the problem will not disappear overnight. As long as there are elections, there will be attempts to manipulate voters. But the response cannot be to grow cynical or to retreat. It must be to double down on education, connection, and trust. Organizations like Mi Familia en Accion have shown what that looks like: grounded in the lives of real people, attentive to their language and culture, and determined to treat them as partners, not pawns. Jesus Sarabia’s words capture the spirit of the movement: informed voters are confident voters, and confident voters are the heart of democracy. On Election Day, when the last ballot is dropped off and the polls close, the story will not be just about who won or lost. It will be about the people who refused to be silenced. They came to the polls despite the lies, cast their votes despite the obstacles, and in doing so, they reaffirmed something essential: that every person, regardless of language or background, has the right to be heard. That is a story worth telling, and a future worth building. The work will continue long after the election, because democracy is not a single day; it is a promise that must be kept every time a person walks into a polling place, drops off a ballot, and says, “My voice matters.”