

Florida’s controversial surgeon general Joseph Ladapo — who is also a tenured professor of medicine at UF — is at odds with the university over whether the public should receive new COVID-19 boosters.
Ladapo has urged people under the age of 65 against receiving the boosters — defying recommendations made by UF and the U.S. Food and Drug Administration.
Separately, UF Health officials are helping Ladapo develop a seminar course on the “critical evaluation of scientific evidence,” he proposed in August 2022, according to emails obtained by The Alligator.
Some UF faculty have shared concerns about Ladapo’s campaign of skepticism regarding the efficacy of COVID-19 vaccines, lockdowns and mask mandates. Additionally, Ladapo’s fast-tracked hiring at the university in September 2021 has drawn scrutiny from the UF Faculty Senate.
Florida lawmakers and UF Health faculty also suggest Ladapo’s medical recommendations should be examined thoroughly.
Ladapo
The U.S. Food and Drug Administration approved new COVID-19 boosters Sept. 11 to target several new variants of the virus.
In a Sept. 13 call with Gov. Ron DeSantis, Ladapo argued there isn’t enough evidence to show the benefits of receiving the boosters outweigh any potential risks, according to the Washington Post.
The call — accompanied by a banner that read: “No Way FDA” — was live-streamed on the social media platform X, formerly known as Twitter.
UF recommended the university community receive the new COVID-19 boosters five days after the livestream.
“The UF community is encouraged to visit the UF Health website to find vaccine locations,” UF Human Resources wrote in an email to faculty and staff Sept. 18.
Ladapo and UF Health did not respond to questions about their contradictory stances on the new boosters.
UF students, faculty and staff can receive vaccines and boosters from the Student Health Care Center and UF Health pharmacies at no cost. UF community members interested in vaccination can visit the UF Health website for details on vaccine availability across Alachua County, Duval County and North Central Florida.
Information about the new vaccines can be found at the Centers for Disease Control website.
Ladapo’s proposed seminar on “critical evaluation of scientific evidence”
Ladapo emailed UF Health President David Nelson last August asking for help developing a “seminar/course on critical evaluation of scientific evidence.”
Nelson obliged and emailed Ladapo back several hours after he received his initial proposal for the seminar.
“We will get you connected for a seminar series that can be accessed across the UF Health system,” Nelson wrote.
In the same email, Nelson recommended that the UF Clinical and Translational Science Institute help Ladapo navigate the official submission process for his seminar proposal.
The UF Clinical and Translational Science Institute was founded in 2008 to “speed the translation of scientific discoveries into improved health by strengthening the university’s ability to conduct clinical and translational research,” according to its website.
The institute is led by Duane Mitchell — who The Alligator identified as a member of UF president Ben Sasse’s “transition team” in May.
Nelson emailed Mitchell a week after his exchange with Ladapo asking to discuss the proposed seminar.
“I suspect that this will have broad applications across many colleges and thus am hoping the CTSI can help to facilitate,” Nelson wrote.
Ladapo confirmed in an email he sent to Nelson in April that he has been “in communication” with Mitchell about “a seminar.”
In the email, Ladapo also provided new details about his plans, including “a course now focused on evaluating medi-
cal/scientific evidence,” and that “the best timeline… [to] organize would now be the fall.”
“I think the course would be of substantial interest to individuals in health policy, analytic methods, and how scientific recommendations develop and evolve,” Ladapo wrote.
Nelson advised Ladapo a day later to seek more information about how to advance his seminar proposal. He referred Ladapo to UF associate provost for academic and faculty affairs Chris Hass and the UF Health Outcomes and Bioinformatics department.
Ladapo and Nelson’s email exchange from April was the most recent interaction between UF Health officials regarding the seminar produced by the records request obtained by The Alligator.
UF Health Spokesperson Gary Mans confirmed in a Sept. 22 statement to The Alligator that Ladapo’s proposed seminar is in active development and will undergo standard review processes under UF Health.
“The topic, timing, and format of the presentation related to the proposed seminar continue to be discussed,” Mans wrote. “All UF Health course offerings go through the college’s review and approval process.”
Ladapo did not respond directly to The Alligator’s questions asking for details about the proposed seminar.
Ladapo’s presence at UF has been scrutinized since his hiring in September 2021. His opinions on issues related to the COVID-19 virus and speculation that state politics played a role in his fast-tracked hiring at UF generated controversy among UF faculty and state lawmakers.
Members of the UF Faculty Senate produced a report in March 2022 that revealed UF Board of Trustees chair Mori Hosseini, who has ties to Gov. Ron DeSantis, sent Ladapo’s resume to UF Health President David Nelson less than three weeks before Ladapo was granted a tenured faculty position at the university.
Some state lawmakers and UF Health faculty believe Ladapo’s medical recommendations should be reviewed carefully in light of his disagreements with the university on COVID-19 vaccines.
Ladapo should be viewed as a politician, not a medical professional, said State Rep. Anna Eskamani (D-42).
“I really look at Dr. Ladapo as more being a political figure
than a Surgeon General at this point,” Eskamani said.
Eskamani said the DeSantis administration has continuously misled the public with its stance on COVID-19 research.
“I’m very concerned that conservatives in particular have hand-picked data,” Eskamani said. “They intentionally misinterpret information to feed into a political agenda and all of us should be very cautious and skeptical of guidance that comes out of this administration.”
High-quality research has to be sound in its theoretical foundation and undergo peer-review, Eskamani added.
Matt Hitchings, a UF assistant professor of biostatistics, is skeptical of the Florida Department of Health’s 2022 study of COVID-19 vaccine risks.
Ladapo altered the state-driven study to suggest that some doses pose a significantly higher health risk for young men than had been established by the broader medical community, according to documents obtained by Politico.
Hitchings, along with three other UF professors, authored a Tampa Bay Times op-ed last year detailing potential limitations and concerning scientific analyses conducted within the study.
The researchers wrote that certain analyses should have been completed, but it was revealed later by public records requests that these analyses were removed, Hitchings said.
“It seemed very logical to conclude that they were entirely taken out because they didn’t support the results or they didn’t support the message that the [Florida Department of Health] wanted to convey,” he said.
Hitchings claims that the UF College of Medicine views Ladapo’s concurrent positions at UF and the Florida Department of Health as two distinct roles.
“At some point, they’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that … he’s teaching [and] he’s going to be doing research here,” Hitchings said.
This is a developing story.
Check back to The Alligator for updates. @garrettshanely gshanley@alligator.org @vazquezjinelle jvazquez@alligator.org
The
also
evaluation of scientific evidence” to be taught at the university
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Obtained documents, a Reddit post and public record requests on the UF Student Government agency ACCENT Speakers allege the agency has financial conflicts of interests to the Florida Blue Key institution.
Rey Arcenas, a 20-year-old UF history junior, runs UF Politics, an Instagram account that regularly posts about student government and UF administration. He filed a series of public record requests against ACCENT for the last several months, alleging the agency has been in a conflict of interest with the talent network that is associated with FBK.
Arcenas said he found out about the conflict after an anonymous source within The System told him there is a money trail within ACCENT Speakers — such as infamously paying TikTok star Josh Richards $60,000 for his talk in the Fall 2022.
The System, Arcenas wrote in an article, is “a century-old political machine consisting of Greek houses, Florida Blue Key, and the communities that historically and continues to dominate campus politics.”
“Greater Talent Network was started in the 1980s by a guy named Don Epstein…he was a Florida Blue Key [and] a former ACCENT chair,” Arcenas said. “This whole company is just Florida Blue Key.”
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Arcenas said the records show the free ACCENT shows have student tuition funds allocated to Greater Talent Network, which is owned by FBK, he said. GTN is the talent agency that hires speakers for ACCENT.
“Florida Blue Key has a strong financial conflict of interest here. [It] controls ACCENT Speakers and [Greater Talent Network],” Arcenas said. “We thought that people deserve to know this and they deserve to know what The System's doing.”
Arcenas believes there is a financial conflict of interest where FBK, the fraternities and sororities have influence over the company ACCENT Speakers conduct business with.
The budget of ACCENT runs into the hundreds of thousands of dollars; the most recent activity and service fee budget allocated ACCENT Speakers nearly $500,000 for the 2022-2023 fiscal year.
Arcenas cited prior reporting by The Alligator, The Gainesville Sun and The Tab showing that the fraternity Alpha Epsilon Pi has historically maintained control over ACCENT Speakers because of a deal made within The System deemed a legacy position.
Digging into the ACCENT contract of Josh Richards, the account examines the representative of United Talent Agency Speakers, the agency with which ACCENT conducts much of its business.
The representative, Arcenas
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wrote, is a Florida Blue Key, Alpha Epsilon Pi brother and the ACCENT chair from 2004-2005. The representative also started to work for the talent agency in August of 2005.
Arcenas said UTA Speakers acquired GTN in 2017 and the founder of GTN was also a Florida Blue Key, Tau Epsilon Phi brother and ACCENT chair from 1976-1977.
Prior reporting by The Alligator in 1977 stated “ACCENT and SG Entertainment have both been dominated in recent years by members of Tau Epsilon Phi (TEP) and Alpha Epsilon Pi (AEPi).”
Arcenas alleges he’s faced harassment and doxxing threats from members of SG’s Vision Party for investigating ACCENT’s financial ties to Florida Blue Key and for making parody memes of members in SG.
Vision Party affiliates have not publicly addressed the article or claims as of Sept. 24.
“I also hope to see more students waking up and realizing the corruption at their feet right in their backdoor that a political machine has controlled UF politics for a 100 years,” Arcenas said.
This is a developing story. Check back for updates.
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Speakers accused of conflict of interest, misallocating student fundsKate McNamara // Alligator Staff
Obtained public records requests show connections to Florida Blue
María Gabriela Puscama es docente, investigadora y coordinadora de Español Inicial 1 de la UF. De Argentina, esta mujer de 34 años emigró a Estados Unidos en 2014 para proseguir su maestría en la Universidad Estatal de Luisiana.
Inicialmente no tenía intención de quedarse en los EE. UU. después de terminar su carrera, pero encontró emoción en la transición a la escuela de posgrado.
“No fue tan difícil al principio porque era muy emocionante estar en un lugar nuevo y originalmente vine a estudiar, así que en ese momento pensé que era temporal”, dijo Puscama.
Cuando Puscama terminó su maestría, conoció a su esposo, Matthew Ray, y después de un año de larga distancia, decidió regresar a la escuela en los EE. UU. Continuó su educación en ciencias del idioma español y trabajó en su doctorado en la Universidad Estatal Pensilvania.
Aunque su experiencia en la Universidad Estatal de Pensilvania fue buena, Puscama notó una falta de representación en el estado.
“Realmente disfruté mi doctorado en Pensilvania y todo eso, pero la comunidad hispana no era tan grande como aquí”, dijo Puscama.
La comunidad hispana más grande de la UF ayuda a mantener a Puscama en contacto con sus raíces, dijo.
"Somos una gran parte de la comunidad estadounidense, especialmente aquí en Florida", dijo Puscama. “En cierto modo, lo encuentro mucho más acogedor aquí, simplemente por el increíble tamaño de la comunidad hispana”.
Está agradecida de que la UF cultiva una comunidad donde se celebra el bilingüismo y ella no tiene que temer ser acosada por hablar español.
“Estoy muy agradecida de estar en un lugar donde ese no es el caso y que es realmente natural y bienvenido ser bicultural y bilingüe”, dijo Puscama.
A pesar del ambiente acogedor en todo el campus, Puscama dijo que le cuesta mantenerse conectada con su cultura mientras se adapta a su nueva vida en los EE. UU.
“Siento que la mayoría de los inmigrantes experimentan esa tira y afloja constante al estar entre dos lugares, por lo que quieres convertir tu hogar en el nuevo lugar en el que estás”, dijo Puscama.
El sentimiento conflictivo entre dos hogares es algo que Puscama cree que no desaparece. Ella lo nota cuando visita a su familia en Argentina, dijo.
“Una vez que sales de tu país de origen, todo cambia. Todo ha cambiado”, dijo Puscama. “Tu familia empieza a notar que no hablas igual. Ahora mi inglés está por encima de mi español”.
Una vez que Puscama decidió quedarse en los EE. UU. para siempre, la realidad de que solo podría ver a su familia una vez al año fue dura.
“Habrías esperado esa realización al principio, pero me tomó más tiempo porque no pensé que fuera permanente hasta entonces”, dijo Puscama. “Creo que lo más difícil fue acostumbrarme a la idea de que veré a mi familia una vez al año, tal vez dos veces si tengo suerte porque están muy lejos”.
Puscama notó múltiples diferencias culturales mientras se sumergía en la cultura estadounidense, pero se sintió particularmente impactada por las normas familiares estadounidenses.
“Me tomó un tiempo acostumbrarme al hecho de que aquí es más normal que la gente viva lejos de sus familias y fuera de casa durante la mayor parte de su carrera y la mayor parte de su vida”, dijo Puscama. "Así que simplemente ver gente para vacaciones o bodas y ese tipo de cosas".
Puscama dijo que es común que las familias en Argentina vivan a cinco o diez minutos en auto una de otra, por lo que el hecho de que sus suegros vivieran a horas de distancia fue un choque cultural.
Vivir en Estados Unidos y adaptarse a nuevas prácticas culturales trae un cambio de identidad para los inmigrantes, dijo Puscama.
“Es bueno recordar que uno no está solo como inmigrante y que todos pasan por la misma lucha. Todo el mundo pasa por esta redefinición de su identidad”, dijo Puscama.
Para mantenerse conectada con Argentina, a Puscama le gusta crear piezas hogareñas como cocinar sus platos argentinos favoritos, como empanadas y milanesa de bistec.
“Lo que personalmente encuentro consuelo es cocinar porque me gusta mucho cocinar”, dijo Puscama. "Y estoy agradecida de poder encontrar todos los ingredientes para preparar mi comida".
Este año, Puscama asumió el papel de asesora docente de la Asociación de Estudiantes Argentinos para conectarse con estudiantes que comparten su herencia. Puscama dijo que la asociación participa en celebraciones de eventos culturales y ve fiestas de eventos deportivos como la Copa Mundial.
“Estoy muy, muy entusiasmada con eso porque es una generación completamente nueva de estudiantes que está tratando de mantener viva la [cultura] argentina. Estoy súper, súper emocionada por eso”, dijo Puscama.
Joshua Higdon, estudiante de doctorado en lingüística hispana de la UF de 23 años, trabaja con Puscama tanto en investigación psicolingüística como en enseñanza de español principiante 1.
El año pasado, tanto Higdon como Puscama eran nuevos en la
UF. Higdon estaba nervioso por comenzar su carrera académica y docente, pero encontró consuelo en la guía de Puscama.
"Yo era un manojo de nervios. Yo era un desastre y ella era muy buena dándome consejos y guiándome cada vez que tenía problemas”, dijo Higdon. "Cualquier pregunta que tuviera, sabía que siempre podía enviarle un correo electrónico y ella respondía muy rápido".
Higdon también tomó un seminario de posgrado sobre adquisición de segundas lenguas que impartió Puscama. Al finalizar el curso, Higdon tuvo que crear una propuesta de investigación y recibió el apoyo de Puscama para llevar adelante su idea.
“Nos reunimos un par de veces y ella realmente no tenía porqué hacer esto. Esta era simplemente ella siendo ella. Ella hizo todo lo posible y me brindó una visión realmente buena”, dijo Higdon.
Ray, el esposo de Puscama, la conoció mientras completaban su maestría en LSU. Describe a Puscama como una persona trabajadora y decidida.
“Cuando llegó el momento de obtener su doctorado, tuvo que pasar por muchas adversidades, particularmente al intentar realizar experimentos durante la pandemia”, dijo Ray.
Ray recibió una nueva perspectiva sobre el proceso de solicitud de una tarjeta verde.
“Lo aprendí particularmente desde una perspectiva completamente nueva de las luchas, la ansiedad y demás, que era muy real”, dijo Ray. "Me hizo darme cuenta de lo afortunados que éramos de tener esos recursos".
@meganmhxward
SHARES STORIES OF IMMIGRATING TO THE U.S., FINDING HER COMMUNITY AND REDEFINING IDENTITY
By Megan Howard Alligator Staff WriterMaría Gabriela Puscama is a lecturer, researcher and the Beginning Spanish 1 coordinator for UF. Originally from Argentina, the 34-year-old immigrated to the U.S. in 2014 to pursue her master’s degree at Louisiana State
University.
She initially did not intend to stay in the U.S. after finishing her degree, but found thrill in transitioning to graduate school.
“It wasn’t that hard at first because it was very exciting to be in a new place and I originally came to study, so I thought at the time it was temporary,” Puscama said.
As Puscama finished her master’s degree, she met her now husband, Matthew Ray, and after a year of long distance, she decided to go back to school in the U.S. She continued her education in Spanish language science and worked on her doctorate degree
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at Pennsylvania State University.
Although her experience at Pennsylvania State University was good, Puscama noticed a lack of representation in the state.
“I really enjoyed my PhD in Pennsylvania and all, but it wasn’t as huge of a Hispanic community as it is here,” Puscama said.
The larger Hispanic community at UF helps keep Puscama in touch with her roots, she said.
“We’re a big part of the U.S. community, especially here in Florida,” Puscama said. “I find it a lot more welcoming here, in a way, just because of the amazing size of the Hispanic community.”
She’s grateful UF fosters a community where bilingualism is celebrated and she doesn’t have to fear being harassed while speaking Spanish.
“I am super thankful that I’m in a place where that’s not the case and that it’s really natural and welcome to be bicultural, bilingual,” Puscama said.
Despite the welcoming atmosphere across campus, Puscama said she struggles with staying connected to her culture while adapting to her new life in the U.S.
“I feel like most immigrants experience that constant push
and pull being between two places, so you want to make home of the new place you’re in,” Puscama said.
The conflicted feeling between two homes is something Puscama thinks doesn’t go away. She notices it when she visits her family in Argentina, she said.
“Once you leave your home country, everything changes. Everything has changed,” Puscama said. “Your family starts noticing that you don’t speak the same. My English is all over my Spanish now.”
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Kennedy Stanley’s first day of kindergarten was not normal.
In many ways, she was similar to her kindergarten peers in other Alachua County Public Schools. Like them, her mom, Kayela Stanley, drove her to school, while she sat in the back seat, nervous for the first day.
The difference is, Kennedy was headed to Spanish class at Terwilliger Elementary School — ACPS’ only dual-language immersion school — having never heard or spoken Spanish at home in her life.
“When I left her, the poor child, her eyes were wide,” Kayela said. “She had no idea what was going on.”
But by the end of the first day, Kennedy came home saying “hola,” and by the end of the first week, she could count in Spanish, Kayela said.
Terwilliger is Alachua County’s first and only public school to offer dual language immersion as a magnet program, with that language being Spanish. The program is in its second year, with its first class of students starting first grade.
Students spend half the day learning in English and another half in Spanish, allowing them to be fully immersed in the languages.
Now in first grade, 6-year-old Kennedy can form full sentences — in fact, counting in Spanish is her party trick.
Her teachers, Mayte Ambite-Calvo, who teaches math, science and Spanish, and Desiree DiPerna, who teaches social studies, writing and English, led the program’s pilot class in kindergarten, and then moved up with them to teach first grade.
Now, DiPerna and Ambite-Calvo plan to stay in first grade, Diperna said.
Their classrooms are connected with a shared door, which acts as a portal between the Spanish-speaking and English-speaking worlds. On one side, posters and supplies are written entirely in Spanish, and on the other, in English; but both work together to fully immerse students in the language they’re learning.
Ambite-Calvo’s students now exclusively speak Spanish in her class — and they expect her not to speak English either, even when there’s guests in the room.
“We have seen so many good things, how much they are learning and how much they enjoy to be with us,” she said.
Gabby Smolenski, who teaches the English portion of kindergarten dual language, learned to teach kindergarten from DiPerna. She shadowed DiPerna for a year as part of the UF ProTeach program, a year-long internship in the last year of the elementary education degree.
“I just love languages,” she said. “And so I think the program was just a perfect fit, and it just worked out really well. I wasn't planning on this, but it all came together really nicely.”
Terwilliger is one out of more than 100 schools that offer similar programs in Florida, some in Spanish and some in Creole.
There are 33 K-12 schools that offer dual language immersion in Palm Beach County, including some in middle and high school, where Terwilliger kindergarten Spanish teacher Ana Zuber taught dual language for 14 years.
Zuber came across the role at Terwilliger by accident when she moved to Alachua County, and she’s amazed by the way her current students work together, she said.
“They communicate so well,” she said. “They share ideas, they share expectations, they share their materials, they share everything. So I'm very happy to work with this group.”
Recent research on bilingual children shows they often have a better memory and switch more easily from one task to another
than monolingual kids, according to the National Institute of Health.
The teachers were proud to show off their students’ work — annotating texts in kindergarten and writing full sentences in both languages by first grade demonstrate the students’ comprehension, they said.
The fate of Terwilliger’s dual language immersion program is still uncertain, given the school doesn’t yet have Spanish teachers for second through fifth grade. However, the program is meant to expand each year up to fifth grade, and school principal Heather Harbour is not aware of any plans to end the program, she wrote in an email.
As a parent of a first grader in the dual language immersion program, 44-year-old Crystal Marull is nervous about whether the program will continue, she said. When her son was in kindergarten, she never received formal confirmation that the program would expand — rather, she noticed applications were being accepted and assumed the program would stay open.
“It would be great if we could just breathe deep and relax and know that it's going to be there for at least K to five,” she said. “There's always a lot of uncertainty about a program like this, and that makes us nervous and anxious.”
For Marull, transportation is the school’s
biggest drawback. Her son, 6-year-old Sebastian Marull, catches the bus around 6:35 a.m. and rides for about half an hour each way.
“It's inconvenient, but it's definitely a sacrifice that we're willing to make for the program itself,” she said.
But even so, the program has been phenomenal, Crystal said. Her husband’s family is Argentinian, so Sebastian knowing Spanish means he can communicate with his grandparents from abroad. And Sebastian has become more open to learning and speaking Spanish at home since starting at Terwilliger, she said.
“Ms. DiPerna and Ms. Mayte are just miracle workers,” she said. “They have been able to put the plane together as they’re flying it with such a high degree of quality. I couldn't be happier.”
Tursys Arias, 31, also noticed her daughter, first grader Lisbeth Arias, has spoken better Spanish since starting the program. Even though Lisbeth grew up speaking Spanish at home, her accent has reemerged and she’s speaking less Spanglish — a combination of English and Spanish — Tursys said.
“It's been so helpful because she speaks great by now,” she said. “You can hear her speaking and you won’t believe that she was speaking more English than Spanish.”
Terwilliger is one of six ACPS elementary schools that offer magnet programs. Magnet programs require parents to submit an application to enroll for the following school year; if that application is approved and the student is selected, he or she can enroll in the program.
The program wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for families submitting applications and enrolling, Ambite-Calvo stressed.
“The real superheroes here are the students,” Ambite-Calvo said. “Because they work so incredibly hard for this every day,” DiPerna added.
@AlissaGary1 agary@alligator.orgPara Miguel Sánchez, la comunidad hispana no puede limitarse a un candidato o partido.
“Cuando la gente habla del voto hispano, no se puede generalizar”, dijo el estudiante de segundo año de ingeniería informática de la UF, de 19 años.
Florida, que alguna vez fue un estado indeciso durante mucho tiempo, se ha vuelto más rojo desde las elecciones presidenciales de 2016 y el gobernador Ron DeSantis asumió el cargo en 2018. Hay 5,2 millones de republicanos registrados y 4,7 millones de demócratas registrados en el estado al 22 de agosto, según el sitio web de la División de Elecciones de Florida.
La etiqueta del Partido Republicano como el partido del anticomunismo y del gobierno limitado ha ayudado a que los votantes hispanos de Florida se orienten hacia el conservadurismo, contribuyendo a la ola roja que ha impactado al estado en las elecciones recientes. En las elecciones para gobernador de 2022, DeSantis obtuvo el 62% del voto hispano en el condado de Miami-Dade, un antiguo bastión demócrata.
Sin embargo, asociar a todo un grupo demográfico con el Partido Republicano no ofrece una imagen precisa del voto hispano en condados mayoritariamente azules como el condado de Alachua, dijo Sánchez.
En el condado de Alachua hay 12.000 votantes hispanos
activos. Casi el 20% son republicanos registrados, el 46% son demócratas registrados y el 34% están registrados con un tercero o ningún partido, según la División de Elecciones de Florida.
En todo el estado, Florida tiene alrededor de 2 millones de votantes hispanos activos. De esos votantes, el 27% son republicanos registrados, el 35% son demócratas registrados y el 37% están registrados en un tercer partido o en ningún partido. Los votantes hispanos de entre 18 y 29 años favorecieron a los candidatos demócratas en el ciclo electoral de 2022.
Es importante tener en cuenta que la afiliación política registrada de un votante puede no coincidir necesariamente con el candidato por el que vota.
Sánchez se registró para votar el 19 de septiembre en la Oficina del Supervisor de Elecciones del Condado de Alachua [Alachua County Supervisor of Elections Office], que se encontraba en la Plaza de las Américas. Ha seguido la política desde la escuela secundaria, cuando el expresidente Donald Trump anunció su campaña presidencial en 2015.
Si bien Sánchez solía respaldar a Trump debido a su franqueza y su enfoque en los negocios, su apoyo terminó después de las acusaciones de fraude electoral de Trump en 2020.
Ahora, las opiniones de Sánchez se alinean en su mayoría con la agenda del Partido Demócrata, y cuestiones como la accesibilidad a la atención médica lo motivan a involucrarse políticamente. Alienta a la comunidad hispana a participar en las elecciones y abrazar el proceso democrático.
"Siento que es su responsabilidad votar para estar representado", dijo. “Tienes una oportunidad. No es justo si no votas”.
La mamá de Sánchez es de Colombia y su papá es de República Dominicana. En Colombia, la corrupción política actual desalienta a la gente a votar, dijo sobre la experiencia de su madre.
El Consejo Nacional Electoral [National Electoral Council] del país, compuesto por nueve miembros, enfrenta con fre-
cuencia controversias por su incapacidad para hacer cumplir las leyes electorales. Colombia también tiene un índice de percepción de corrupción de 39 sobre 100, según Transparencia Internacional [Transparency International], lo que puede hacer que los posibles votantes duden en votar cuando se mudan a Estados Unidos.
Lea el resto en línea en alligator.org
Zachary Carnell contribuyó a este informe.
@sophia_bailly sbailly@alligator.org
For Miguel Sanchez, the Hispanic community cannot be confined to one candidate or party.
“When people talk about the Hispanic vote, you cannot generalize it,” the 19-yearold UF computer engineering sophomore said.
Once a long-time swing state, Florida has become more red since the 2016 presidential election and Gov. Ron DeSantis took office in 2018. There are 5.2 million registered Republicans and 4.7 million registered Democrats in the state as of Aug. 22, according to the Florida Division of Elections website.
The Republican Party’s branding as the party of anti-communism and limited government has helped shift Florida's Hispanic voters toward conservatism, contributing to the red wave that has impacted the state in recent elections. In the 2022 gubernatorial election, DeSantis secured 62% of the Hispanic vote in Miami-Dade County, a former Democratic stronghold.
Yet, associating an entire demographic with the Republican Party does not paint an accurate picture of the Hispanic vote in largely blue counties like Alachua County, Sanchez said.
In Alachua County there are 12,000 active Hispanic voters. Nearly 20% are registered Republicans, 46% are registered Democrats and 34% are registered with a third party or no party at all, according to the Florida Division of Elections.
Statewide, Florida has about 2 million active Hispanic voters. Of those voters, 27% are registered Republicans, 35% are registered Democrats and 37% are registered with a third-party or no party at all. Hispanic vot-
ers between the ages of 18 and 29 favored Democratic candidates in the 2022 election cycle.
It is important to note that a voter's registered political affiliation may not necessarily match the candidate they vote for.
Sanchez registered to vote Sept. 19 with the Alachua County Supervisor of Elections Office, which was tabling in the Plaza of the Americas. He has been following politics since middle school when former president Donald Trump announced his presidential campaign in 2015.
While Sanchez used to back Trump due to his straightforwardness and focus on business, his support ended after Trump's allegations of election fraud in 2020.
Now, Sanchez’s views mostly align with the Democratic Party’s agenda, with issues like health care accessibility motivating him to be politically involved. He encourages the Hispanic community to participate in elections and embrace the democratic process.
“I feel like it's your responsibility to vote to be represented,” he said. “You’re given an opportunity. It’s not fair if you don’t vote.”
Sanchez’s mom is from Colombia, and his dad is from the Dominican Republic. In Colombia, ongoing political corruption discourages people from voting, he said of his mom’s experience.
The country’s nine-member National Electoral Council frequently faces controversy for its inability to enforce election laws. Colombia also has a corruptions perception index of 39 out of 100, according to Transparency International, which can make prospective voters hesitant to vote when they move to the U.S.
Even though Florida law preserves election confidentiality, Aaron Klein, the director of communications and outreach for the Alachua County Supervisor of Elections Office, said misinformation about voting privacy is an issue. Newly naturalized immigrants can be particularly hesitant to vote, he said.
“You will certainly get people who may be skeptical, who may even be afraid of register-
ing,” he said. “Folks may be coming from places where voting isn't simple.”
It's understandable for some Hispanic voters to be suspicious, Klein said, especially Latino immigrants from countries like Cuba or Venezuela, who may have experienced rigged or corrupt elections in the past. But he assured Alachua County residents that elections are safe, accessible and fair.
However, there are also local Hispanic residents who are comparatively enthusiastic about the U.S. election system, he said. Some naturalized immigrants choose to become election workers to learn about the election process and be more politically involved, Klein said.
“Your vote — it's really important because it represents your contract with the leaders [and] with the community,” Klein said. “It represents that you are invested in the future of your community.”
The number of eligible Hispanic voters in Alachua County who voted in the 2022 general election dropped by 15 percentage points from 2018. In the 2016 general election, 70% of eligible Hispanic Alachua County voters casted a ballot in the election. In the 2022 general election that percent dropped to about 40%.
The county has made multiple efforts to make the voting process more accessible to non-English speakers, Klein said. The elections office website is translatable, and there is a Spanish voter registration form and hotline. Voters are also allowed to bring translators with them for in-person voting.
The right to vote is the only way for the Hispanic community to make its voice heard, Jesus Martinez, a Gainesville muralist and cofounder of the mural production company Visionario FAM [Visionary FAM], said.
Although he doesn’t affiliate with either political party, Martinez said among the Hispanic community he notices a preference for the Republican party.
Gov. Ron DeSantis’ presidential campaign has branded the Democratic party as socialist and favoring corrupt governments. DeSantis’ campaign for re-election as governor also
honed in on the Hispanic vote with rhetoric about pandemic lies, economic opportunity and Spanish engagement on social media.
“It depends on where they come from,” he said. “If they're coming from communist countries, the last thing they want to hear is or see are policies that reflect anything like that.”
Martinez is a first-generation Floridian. His grandparents immigrated to Florida from Cuba to escape Fidel Castro’s dictatorship. Castros frequently suppressed free speech and eliminated all political groups except for the Communist Party during his roughly five-decade reign.
Latinos who have personal experience or familial ties to dictatorship, like Martinez, prefer a limited government, he said.
Martinez is not aware of any obstacles within the U.S. political system that oppress Spanish speaking and Hispanic immigrant voters. To him, immigrating to the U.S. allowed his family to achieve economic success.
His grandfather, who never learned to speak English, worked at a sugar mill in central Florida. By the time he retired, Martinez said he was an electrical engineer.
“In the United States, everyone has an equal opportunity to get ahead if you work and if you're smart,” he said. “You can make it.”
Natalie Triana, a 20-year-old UF political science junior and Miami Lakes native, serves as the executive director for UF’s Hispanic Student Association Office of Political Affairs. Her political identity leans more left due to her passions for social justice advocacy, she said.
For Triana, voting is at the heart of democracy, which Hispanic immigrants from countries struck by political corruption may not have properly experienced before coming to America.
“The bare minimum that you should do in order to kind of have some sort of political efficacy would be to vote,” she said.
Zachary Carnell contributed to this report.
Larry Williams has spent most of his life in and out of a cow pen.
After working 52 years in the feed industry, the 74-year-old retired cattle rancher splits his time between his 50 beef cows and his duties as the president of the Alachua County Cattlemen’s Association.
“It’s how I made my living all this time,” he said. “I’ve got great-grandkids getting in [animal agriculture].”
For many, agriculture and animal farming is a way of life. Supporters of animal agriculture claim it provides a wealth of jobs and economic benefits. Yet, a growing number of activists and scientists say the local meat production industry harms the environment and subjects animals to severe abuse.
Agriculture yields economic and community prosperity
Florida’s animal agriculture industry was valued at over $1.4 billion in 2021. There are more than 40,000 cows, most of which are raised to produce meat or dairy products, in Alachua County alone.
Agriculture is Florida’s biggest economic driver through an economic recession or a pandemic, Florida Commissioner of Agriculture Wilton Simpson said.
“During the pandemic, farmers went to work every day,” Simpson said.
In February, Alachua County proposed a small-scale meat processing facility to be built in Newberry, sparking a heated debate between local animal welfare activists and agricultural workers.
The County Commission ended up rejecting the $2.5 million plan in August after Gov. Ron DeSantis vetoed the $1.75 million that would have been set aside for the facility.
Williams was in favor of the proposed Newberry plant, having spoken on behalf of local farmers at multiple County Commission meetings before the plan’s failure. He said
he hopes a similar proposal for the county finds success in the future.
“It would’ve given a lot of small people a lot of help,” he said.
Ranchers raising cows for meat currently have to ship them west to states like Colorado or Texas for processing before the meat is shipped back to Florida to be sold.
The Newberry facility would’ve cut out that extra step, Williams said, making it more convenient for farmers to sell their products locally.
Alachua County residents could then show direct support to local farmers rather than purchasing meat from large commercial grocery stores.
Alachua County Commission
Chair Anna Prizzia considers herself on the same side as animal welfare advocates while also having supported the Newberry facility.
The plant would have improved the ethical standards of the local animal agriculture industry by enhancing quality control, providing safer working conditions for employees, and reducing waste, Prizzia said.
“This is one of the key things that I think we need for local food infrastructure in order to support our small ranchers, protect our rural farmlands and create a resilient local food system,” she said.
Animal agriculture is also a source of community and education for Alachua County’s youth, 4-H State Specialized Agent Christopher DeCubellis said. The youth development organization, 4-H, helps K-12 students engage with projects involving farm animals.
One of the organization’s initiatives, known as market projects, requires students to care for an animal, keep track of how much they spend and do community service.
“We hope that the kids will be big-picture thinkers and look for ways to make their community and their world better,” he said.
Market projects allow kids to raise animals such as cows and pigs knowing they’ll be sold for human consumption. Students who want to
be involved in market projects have to go through ethics training at least once every three years, DeCubellis said.
The 4-H program shows youth how to raise animals in an ethical, respectful way, and can spark their interest in a future career in agriculture, he added.
Animal cruelty and environmental costs
However, as climate change becomes an increasing concern for many, some experts and advocates worry about the animal agriculture industry’s contribution to the global issue.
Livestock produce 14.5% of our global emissions, with the majority coming from cows. One cow will produce 220 pounds of methane per year through belching. While carbon dioxide is a well-known greenhouse gas, methane is 28 times more potent.
There are various ways the animal agriculture industry negatively impacts the environment, like through excess water and land usage, 25-year-old UF ecology graduate student Rock Aboujaoude said.
“A lot of people just think ‘It’s just methane, right?’ Well, no. It’s also the land. It’s also the water. It’s also the fertilizers,” he said.
It takes 4.5 gallons of water to produce one gallon of milk. For a pound of beef, that number skyrockets to 1,800 gallons.
Additionally, pollution from animal manure can become a huge problem for the environment and local communities, PETA Science Education Strategist Sally Sanders said.
Livestock produce 40 times more feces than humans. Animal waste at meat processing plants is often improperly managed, Sanders said, and can end up polluting freshwater supplies.
There’s overwhelming evidence that the animal agriculture industry leads to environmental degradation, she added.
Sanders, who is vegan, said that
human consumption of livestock is rooted in a concept called speciesism. The notion that certain animals like dogs are pets, but other animals like cows are food is a cultural bias that can be undone, she said.
“This concept of speciesism takes time for people to recognize it as a genuine concern,” Sanders said. “We just want others to recognize that animals are not ours to do with as we please.”
At Critter Creek Farm Sanctuary, Sheena Drost scratches Lionel the cow behind his ears. Lionel was rescued by the sanctuary from a small, family-owned dairy farm, Drost said. At dairy farms, male cows are slaughtered at birth as they don’t produce milk.
Drost, the secretary and office manager for Critter Creek, has been with the sanctuary since 2019. Critter Creek has 222 animals, 180 of which are cows, making it the largest bovine sanctuary in the country. Some of their other animals include water buffalo, bison, pigs and horses.
The majority of the sanctuary’s animals, Drost said, are rescued from cruelty and neglect. She pointed at a pig named Noodle, whose tail ends
in a stump. At large industrial farms, the tails of pigs are cut off at birth.
Critter Creek opposed the Newberry facility due to its stance against animal cruelty and the impact the plant would have on public health. The pollution and runoff from the facility could contaminate the local environment, as well as cause health complications for humans, she said.
Meat processing facilities often attract disease vectors like flies and rats, she added.
“It’s such a domino effect, so [the proposed facility] was canceled, thankfully,” she said.
Critter Creek hosts a “farmer’s moo-ket” every month with vegan food trucks, small businesses and opportunities for people to interact with resident animals. The goal is to create a place where locals can try foods they normally wouldn’t and bring awareness to animal cruelty, Drost said.
“They’re just like our pets at home,” Drost said. “They feel pain. They form bonds. They have families they love.”
@KylieWilliams99 kyliewilliams@alligator.org
Alachua County holds 606 short-term rental units. In The Magnolia Plantation owner Cindy Montalto’s words, “You can’t swing a dead cat in Gainesville without hitting an Airbnb.”
Short-term rental (STR) units are residential spaces usually rented for under 30 days at a time and managed through online platforms like Airbnb. The industry is growing in Gainesville. AirDNA, a STR data analysis platform, ranked Gainesville among the top 15 best U.S. cities to invest in vacation rentals in 2021, 2022 and 2023.
STR management companies
AirDNA’s rankings brought new attention to Gainesville from investors, said Maria McNiece, 25-year-old founder and CEO of McNiece Management.
“This huge, massive national website listed little old Gainesville as number 12 — we were among the ranks of places like Honolulu and Austin,” McNiece said. “I had people calling me who had no connection with Gainesville at all, but found that website and wanted to invest here.”
McNiece Management is the largest STR management company in Gainesville, with about 55 total properties located in the city, McNiece said.
STR management companies employ professional photographers, cleaners and pricing experts who help homeowners put their space on the market and manage day-to-day operations.
McNiece began her company in 2019, when friends who owned an Airbnb hired her, a “night owl college student,” to check in on
their guests during late-hour emergencies — like floods or broken Wi-Fi.
“When COVID hit, I saw a real opportunity after lots of people I was talking to were interested in putting their own residential homes up on Airbnb,” McNiece said. “I said, ‘There’s got to be more people that need this.’ … It took off pretty quickly.”
McNiece manages properties as far west as Texas and as far north as Boston, but Gainesville is the company’s largest hub, comprising one-third of McNiece’s about 150 listings.
McNiece’s primary clientele is families looking to rent out their homes once their children have graduated from college, McNiece said.
More than 30% of active short-term rental listings in the U.S. are run by “mega hosts” or management companies that run 21 or more properties, according to a report from AirDNA.
STR criticism
STRs have long been accused of pushing up rent and pushing locals out of their homes.
Most recently, New York City passed Local Law 18 Sept. 5. The law mandates STR hosts be registered with the city and be present while guests stay with them.
Called a “de facto ban” by Airbnb, Local Law 18 came after a Maryville University study found for every 1% increase in Airbnb rentals, a 1.6% increase occurred in long-term rental rates in New York City from 2009 to 2016.
Affordable housing problems are familiar to Gainesville residents. From 2020 to 2021, median overall rent increased 7% in Alachua County; from 2021 to 2022, rent increased 20%. The surge occurred at the same time Airbnbs flooded Gainesville, but one didn’t cause the other, McNiece said.
While living in New York after college, McNiece noticed longtime residents struggled to find rentals due to low inventory, she said. She’s glad Local Law 18 will prevent investors from buying up buildings, but she doesn’t see the need for similar legislation in Gainesville, she said.
“In Gainesville, all my clients are regular families who have had these properties for
years and just want to keep it in the family,” McNiece said. “We have people who inherited a property that was their mom’s and they don’t want to sell it … we’re not seeing investors buying properties just for the sake of Airbnb.”
Local laws, ordinances and regulations can’t ban vacation rentals or regulate their location, duration or frequency, said Jessica Hurov, tourism development manager for Gainesville.
Guests who stay in STRs pay Florida Sales Tax and Tourist Development Tax. Alachua County is estimated to collect $8 million in Tourist Development Tax this fiscal year, $630,000 of which will come from STRs, according to Hurov.
But for Montalto and her husband Joe, who have co-owned and operated Magnolia Plantation Bed & Breakfast Inn and Cottages for 33 years, a lack of regulation for Airbnb poses a greater danger than can be outweighed by its positive impact on tax receipts.
Magnolia Plantation is subject to four surprise inspections from health inspectors every year, Cindy said. Every inch is examined, from the piped seams around the bottom edge of each mattress to the little space in between the cabinet and refrigerator in the kitchen.
“They have to get me on something,” Cindy said. “You either have to have a threecompartment sink or a special high, hot sanitizing dishwasher, so they came in once and told me I needed to have a Hobart … because the kitchen only had two sinks.”
After spending $4,000 on the Hobart, assuming it was a brand of dishwasher, Cindy realized the Hobart wasn’t a dishwasher at all — it was a sanitizer that heated dishes once they had already been cleaned and washed, Cindy said.
“That was Hobart doing some really fancy footwork with the lobbyists,” she said. Read the rest online at alligator.org
@zoeythomas39 zthomas@alligator.org
Jon A. Roosenraad, or “Rosey” as he was affectionately called by family and friends, was known for the way he enjoyed life and supported everyone he crossed paths with.
The 78-year-old UF professor emeritus died of natural causes Sept. 13.
William McKeen, a 69-year-old Boston University journalism professor who previously worked at UF, said Roosenraad’s Halloween and tailgate parties were something to remember.
One that stuck out in McKeen’s mind was the Halloween party Roosenraad hosted during McKeen’s first year in Florida. McKeen went dressed in drag as one of Charlie’s Angels, he said.
“My wife says, ‘You don’t really know this guy, and you’re dressed in drag,’” he said. “‘You can just kiss tenure goodbye.’”
Little did he know that Roosenraad would have a similar idea. When Roosenraad greeted him at the door, he was also dressed in drag, he said.
McKeen said he also attended several concerts with Roosenraad to see artists like The Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan.
“He enjoyed life,” he said. “It was impossible to be around him and not pick up on that.”
Roosenraad worked with the UF College of
Journalism and Communications since 1968 when he was hired at the age of 23, UF wrote in a statement.
He served as the chair of the department of journalism and assistant dean of student services over the years.
After retiring in 2006, Roosenraad continued to teach journalism, reporting and editing courses up until his passing.
Roosenraad was also involved with Campus Communications and The Alligator for over 20 years, leading him to be inducted into The Alligator Hall of Fame.
The former professor left a positive impact on many of his students.
For Mary Shedden, a 56-year-old 1990 UF journalism alumna, Roosenraad helped encourage her to continue her education despite Shedden facing financial troubles.
“He really played a huge role in keeping me in school,” she said. “There was a time when I was basically out of money and was going to drop out … He found a job within the journalism school and suggested I apply for it.”
Were it not for Roosenraad and his advice, Shedden would have dropped out, she said.
“I gained confidence in myself as a journalist,” she said. “I sit here after 30 years, more than 30 years later, and I’m still a working journalist and really proud of it.”
Sam Dolson, a 60-year-old 1992 UF journalism alum, struggled academically. Roosenraad helped keep him on target to graduate even when Dolson left Gainesville for a few years, he said.
“I credit John for, before I left, helping me understand and while I was gone, keeping me
focused. And then when I got back … [he] put me on the right track to get through the school part of it,” he said. “It was invaluable to me.”
Dolson is one of many students who were influenced by Roosenraad and his guidance, he said.
“My story on that part is not unique,” he said. “The dude was just there for everybody.”
Shedden and Dolson both commended “Rosey” for having a humorous and fun-loving personality while still maintaining his expectations and principles.
“He was a very smart academic, but he never took himself too seriously,” Shedden said. “He knew how to laugh, he knew how to have a good time, but he never compromised his standards.”
Roosenraad’s peers and colleagues also respected his work ethic and willingness to help others.
Ted Spiker, the chair of the UF department of journalism, said Roosenraad was always there to aid and support his students.
“So many alums have told me that they wouldn’t be where they are today if it wasn’t for Rosey — because he always knew exactly how to help students get out of a jam,” he wrote. “He was a great teacher and administrator, and he always cared about students succeeding.”
Roosenraad served as McKeen’s administrative model.
Tasks like annual evaluations and reports were often tedious, but Roosenraad dealt with them well, he said.
“You always felt really good about going to work,” McKeen said. “He just had a really
good collegial atmosphere.”
McKeen reflected on the morning routine he had with Roosenraad and other faculty members when he worked at UF. He wanted staff to set an example by being well-informed, he said.
“We’d meet in Rosey’s office, have some coffee and read The New York Times together,” he said.
When McKeen was going to be on his own for Thanksgiving one year, Roosenraad invited him over to celebrate with him and his family, he said.
“He said, ‘The cost of admission is a green bean casserole,’ so I made this green bean casserole called a nuclear green bean casserole,” McKeen said. “He loved it so much that he would ask me every Thanksgiving to make it and then give it to him so that he could try to convince people that he had made the casserole.”
Kim Moffitt, Roosenraad’s daughter, has many memories of her father helping her with homework, going on “father/daughter walks” together and taking family trips in the summer.
“He would make out itineraries and loved reading maps and planning the driving routes,” she wrote.
Moffitt said her father had a companionable personality.
“He truly was a great person who treated others as he hoped to be treated,” she wrote. “He always had a smile on his face and loved talking to others.”
Marty Jourard, a musician raised in Gainesville, lived in the city during some definitive times. Between the Civil Rights Movement, Brown v. The Board of Education and the Vietnam War, Gainesville was not necessarily a peaceful place in the 1960s and 1970s.
It was a place of civil unrest — protests, beatings and riots, but not entirely because of the hippies.
The hippie movement was a counterculture movement started by youths on college campuses in the 1960s. It was a culture that counteracted the “extreme conservatism” of the times, Marty said.
“The hippies were right. Peace and love. Make love, not war. It’s not about money. Be nice to people. Be nice to Mother Nature,” Marty said. “The hippies had the right approach.”
But hippies weren’t respected outside of the hippie community. Gainesville was a “liberal oasis” in a conservative state, he said. However, there were areas of Gainesville that were dangerous for hippies to venture into.
“In Gainesville, you could get your ass beat by rednecks if you went to the wrong part of town,” Marty said. “They would cross the street to beat you up.”
Hippies wore different clothes, used psychedelic drugs, grew their hair long and created new genres of music, but the hippie movement was much more complex than that, Marty said.
“It was a protest against the status quo of American culture,” he said.
Hippies believed in peace and love, and that belief carried into anti-war protests and the Civil Rights movement. Over everything, hippies fought for and supported equality, Marty said.
“You wanted to be peaceful. You wanted to cooperate with other people,” he said. “You were inclusive. You smoked marijuana. You took LSD.”
Marty’s brother, Jeff Jourard, 72, was a few years older and had a dif-
ferent perspective during the hippie movement. He was in the thick of it, and the hippie movement gave people the feeling that a revolution was coming, Jeff said.
In the late 1960s and early 1970s, something like a revolution hit Gainesville: residents and students protested the Vietnam war and supported the Civil Rights movement, he said.
Hippies were different from the generations before them. They rejected mainstream American life and searched for alternative lifestyles, but it wasn’t a widely accepted theme among older Americans.
“There was people coming through for the Chicago Seven,” Jeff said. “All of these political and lefty kind of organizations were looking for support, and it got a lot of pushback from the conservative world that saw that as a threat.”
The Chicago Seven was one of the Nixon-era trials that aimed to suppress anti-war sentiment. All seven men were on trial for criminal conspiracy and incitement to riot in 1969. In 1972, two years after the seven were convicted, all criminal and contempt convictions were thrown out in appellate court.
Post-war America was a cleancut, corporate “utopia,” Jeff said. It offered Americans who had lived through the Great Depression and two world wars a life with safe suburbs, quality entertainment, neighborhood barbeques and vacations. Post-war America was traditional, but it was a dream for some.
Hippies, however, couldn’t imagine something more boring, he said. Corporate America, to hippies, was no different than a “cleaned up prison,” and young people dreamt they could be anything, he said.
The hippie movement reached its heights in the late ‘60s, with antiwar protests becoming a fundamental part of the movement, according to History.com.
UF was no different.
On Oct. 15, 1969, about 1,800 UF students gathered at the Plaza of the Americas to protest the Viet-
nam War. The Student Mobilization Committee sold red and black armbands with ‘644,000’ on them, representing the estimated number of U.S. casualties in the war, according to UF archives.
On May 4, 1970, the Ohio National Guard shot 13 students, killing four and injuring nine others. The Kent State shooting triggered national retaliation, with hundreds of colleges and universities closing down because of it, according to Kent State University.
UF students requested that thenpresident Stephen O’Connell cancel classes in honor of the victims of the shooting, but he didn’t. It’s estimated that 3,000 UF students protested, causing classes to be canceled for two days.
Two years later, in May 1972, an anti-war demonstration spilled out onto the streets at the intersection of University and Northwest 13th Street. The mandatory draft was a consistent problem, Jeff said.
“There was a lot of anger and resentment over shipping off young people to just get slaughtered to make some kind of an abstract point,” he said. “The North remained communist, the South was sympathetic with Western values, and zillions of people got killed and burned. It didn’t really settle much of anything.”
Others recall this particular antiwar protest as violent, too. Scott Camil, one of the Gainesville Eight, is a coordinator for Vietnam Veterans against the War. Veterans added a level of credibility to the anti-war movement that wasn’t previously there, he said.
“They [pro-war supporters] lost those arguments,” Camil said. “They couldn’t say that we didn’t know what we were talking about because we didn’t read about foreign policy. We were the foreign policy.”
Camil was part of the May 1972 protest, he said. The protest lasted two days, continuing through the nights. It left 18 police officers hospitalized and almost 400 students were arrested. But none of the veterans that participated was hurt or arrested, Camil said.
However, once the veterans’ cityassigned protest permit ran out of time, they removed the barricades that created the blockade and left the streets, but the students didn’t leave. The students also didn’t move when 1972 student body president, Samuel Taylor, urged them off the streets.
Students didn’t move when fire trucks were brought in to spray them off the street — in fact, this only made the crowd larger because it provided sweet relief to hot May weather, Camil said. Students weren’t strongly affected by the tear gas police officers threw because the officers were standing downwind, and it backfired.
The veterans interfered with the protest when police officers, four to six deep, sidewalk to sidewalk, started to get violent with the protesters, especially the young, female protesters, Camil said.
“We used slingshots and projectiles and we just blasted their asses,”
Camil said. “They were used to beating the sh-t out of the students. They weren’t used to standing up against combat veterans, and we let them see that we weren’t going to allow this kind of activity against the students.”
Camil, along with seven other men, would go down in history as the Gainesville Eight.
The Gainesville Eight
The Gainesville Eight, similar to the Chicago Seven, Harrisburg Seven and Camden 28, were part of one of the many Nixon-era conspiracy trials that occurred in the 1960s and ’70s. Trials like these were infamous for trying to suppress anti-war support.
Aug. 31, 2023, marks the 50th anniversary of the Gainesville Eight being acquitted on all charges. Seven of the eight men were Vietnam veterans, and today, only five of the eight are still alive.
Gainesville Mayor Harvey Ward welcomed the five men back to Gainesville Aug. 31 and read a proclamation praising the group for its historical significance and work for peace, according to The Gainesville Sun.
In 1973, the jury deliberated for three and a half hours before deciding the defendants were not guilty, according to New York Times archives. The U.S. government tried a case no one expected them to win, Camil said.
“I’m proud of what we did. I’m proud of what we stood for,” Camil said. “We were exercising those constitutional rights that we not only inherited, but we also bled for.”
An outside perspective
Bill Killeen wasn’t too far off from being considered a hippie in the ’60s and ’70s. He didn’t consider himself one, and most hippies in the area didn’t consider him one either, he said. Killeen opened his store, which primarily served hippies, when he was 27.
He opened The Subterranean Circus in 1967 on Seventh Street with $1,200, and despite calling himself a “fool” for opening a store with a small amount of money, the store kept growing, he said. He sold hippie clothes and drug paraphernalia and frequented New York to buy both.
Killeen saw his fair share of protests, ranging from Civil Rights protests to anti-war protests. He recalls watching the 1972 protest die during the day before picking back up again at night, he said.
“It just went on and on,” he said. “It was rough.”
The hippie movement opened the door to a distrust in the U.S. government, Killeen said.
“The draft is something that’s going to cause you problems,” he said. “But also people stopped trusting the politicians.”
The hippie movement came to an end in the mid-1970s, around the same time the Vietnam War ended, but hippie ideology lives on through some.
“People started smoking pot, people started taking acid — the music, the art, — everything came along at the same time,” Killeen said. “It was very, very unique, and every aspect of it was just stunning.”
Diddley Plaza. Adorned with red flowers in their hair, the group spun and strutted to Argentinian music as dozens of Gainesville residents watched.
The tango performance was just one part of the two-week-long celebration of Hispanic Heritage Month organized by the Latina Women’s League in Gainesville. Ericka Ghersi, the 51-year-old league’s president, stressed the importance of cultural
representation when the group began planning the festival in January.
“It means a lot because it’s a way of getting all together as a community,” Ghersi said.
The celebration doubles as a time for many Latin Americans to honor their countries’ independence days, as eight countries in Central and South America mark their Independence Day during Hispanic Heritage Month.
“Most of the people that we have are from Central America,” Ghersi said, “So now they are getting the chance to celebrate here with us. And not just one day, several days.”
Ghersi herself is an immigrant, moving to Gainesville from her native country Peru around 23 years ago. Initially struggling to find a sense of belonging in her new surroundings, she eventually fell in with the Latina Women’s League.
“I tried to be part of the community that was here already,” she said. “I liked it because you know, there were like 17 people my age and it was fun for me.”
Her first project with the organi-
zation was the first film festival it organized in 2004. She stuck with them as they continued doing events and worked her way up to becoming the president.
As president, Ghersi had a vision for the festival to be far grander than its previous iterations. She reached out to Carol Velasques-Richardson, the 56-year-old cultural affairs manager for the City of Gainesville, to ask if the city would be interested in helping with the festival, and Velasques-Richardson was eager to step in.
“The City of Gainesville Division of Cultural Affairs has made it their mission that they wanted the community to come together,” Velasques-Richardson said. “We want to be able to celebrate different cultures and heritages and create a sense of belongingness.”
Movies were shown at venues across Gainesville, but VelasquesRichardson wanted the kickoff performances to take place at Bo Diddley.
“We want everyone to know that Bo Diddley Plaza is your place.”
she said. “It’s bringing the culture downtown. So many times you have events that it’s either West Gainesville, East Gainesville or it’s UF, so this is an opportunity for us to bring everybody together.”
Ghersi said she wants nothing more to come from the movies shown at the festival than cultural knowledge.
“It’s a very good way to start a healthy conversation,” she said, “and to be able to get to know other people, how they think and their values.”
Ana Maria Goncalves, a 36-yearold Gainesville resident originally from Brazil, attended the showing of “Coco” with her 6-year-old daughter Julia at the Headquarters Library.
“I loved that they were showing movies for kids that explored the beauty of Latin American culture and families,” she said. “I want Julia to grow up knowing about her culture and being proud of it.”
@bealunardini blunardi@alligator.org
Gone are the days of flipping turntables and shuffling through stacks of jewel cases. Streaming services like Spotify and Apple Music have taken today’s generation by storm. At least, for some people.
In Gainesville, several UF students keep the past alive through a trend that resurrects pieces of a bygone era: CD and record collecting.
Alejandra Agustin, a 19-year-old UF anthropology sophomore, has been collecting CDs since she was a junior in high school. When her family moved from Puerto Rico to Miami in 2015, her father had to leave behind his extensive CD collection. Although they have tried on several visits back to retrieve his ‘mythical’ collection, it is nowhere to be found.
“It’s kind of been a goal of mine to get as much CDs that I can and see what CDs he had in that collection,” Agustin said. “It’s almost like a fun thing to show my dad. It’s a bonding experience.”
Like most students, she still uses streaming services such as Spotify to listen to music
on the go. But when she gets home, she can peruse her collection of almost 150 CDs to pop the perfect album into her CD player.
This method of listening is less stressful for Agustin. It takes away the responsibility of choosing the perfect song or playlist and instead lets the CD do the work.
“CDs in general are just really fun to listen to,” Agustin said.
Her collection grew significantly this summer after studying abroad in London, where record stores were more prevalent. Although Gainesville offers fewer record stores, she has still managed to find some of her favorite listens here. One particularly special to her is a homemade compilation of songs by the band Cibo Matto that she found at a local thrift store.
“The media that Gen Z consumes is kind of so intangible because everything’s on our phones or on the internet, which is not real,” Agustin said. “There’s these spaces that used to exist, but they’ve all kind of been condensed and shoved into the internet.”
Aubrey Finnegan is the store manager of Gainesville’s latest record store, Sunshine Records, which sells a diverse assortment of media including CDs, records, tapes and books. Finnegan grew up around Gainesville’s punk music scene and said that scene made her very interested in music.
“A bunch of punk bands will release CDs, and tapes, records and make a zine,” Finnegan
said. “Growing up here too, that was a big part. You get to buy your friend’s music and now you have a copy of a flyer for the show or something silly, but it’s special.”
Although the store has only been open for five months, Finnegan sees a variety of customers enter her shop every day. The younger people who come in are mainly window shoppers, she said.
“It seems like they’re kind of after this lust for physical objects because they come in and are like ‘Woah, this is so cool,’ but then they don’t buy anything,” Finnegan said. “I think it’s almost a foreign concept to be in a music store.”
Finnegan may be right. Ninety percent of Americans who use music streaming platforms belong to Gen Z, according to a 2022 study published on Statista.
Jude Singleton, 20-year-old UF linguistics and English junior, collects another form of physical music media: vinyl. Their passion for collecting vinyl began when they received their first record, Atrocity Exhibition by Danny Brown, as a Christmas present in 2020. As the years have gone on, one record has multiplied into a collection of 169 records and CDs combined.
Collecting physical media is not cheap. Just one record can cost as much as multiple months of unlimited listening on a streaming service and that is without considering the
equipment needed to listen to the music.
Singleton estimates they’ve spent about $10,000 on records and equipment over the course of four years. But to them, the amount put in is worth it.
“It’s really cost prohibitive to a certain extent depending on what you want out of it,” Singleton said. “It is really inconvenient and because it’s inconvenient you have to become much more imbricated in the experience. You have to work with the music.”
Unlike Spotify or Apple Music, where listeners can skip songs and create playlists to their liking, listening to music on vinyl offers no such features. This, however, does not deter most record listeners.
“I have records that have songs that I can’t stand,” Singleton said. “But I think when you have to sit and listen to it all the way through with people, you gain a better appreciation for it even if you’re not a huge fan of it as a song.”
For those who do collect, no matter how small that group may be, it certainly means something to amass the media that they enjoy.
“I feel like music seems like an intangible thing that we’ve made tangible through CDs and vinyls,” Agustin said. “I think it kind of connects with a past that we didn’t really have access to.”
@bonnymatejowsky
bmatejowsky@alligator.org
In the vibrant palette of American multiculturalism, my experience stands as a testament to the beauty of diversity, the profoundness of heritage and the challenges and joys of dancing between two distinct worlds.
Born in the U.S. to Colombian parents, I’ve been privileged to grow up indulging in the sights, sounds and flavors of Colombian culture, all while claiming an American identity. The intersection of my heritages has crafted a blend of traditions, languages and perspectives shaping my outlook of the world.
An early childhood memory begins with noisy elementary students conquering the school’s cafeteria. My mother would pack me arroz con frijoles, a dish my family and I still eat at least twice a week. The giggling of my classmates, while they ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, made me first question what my 7-year-old mind had always known.
Venturing through school, extracurriculars and any group setting led to overwhelming realizations. I had a different upbringing than people around me, but what I had still yet to understand and appreciate was that everyone else did too.
The daily exposure to American values, education and customs led me to awkwardly feeling lost in two spaces.
I’d travel to Colombia and instantly feel gaps in my understanding. I mispronounced Spanish words, subconsciously proclaiming English as my native tongue, and
was misinformed on the nation’s history, current disputes and pop culture.
I’m a product of my family’s values but also of my own. I’m currently still discovering parts of my cultural identity. It’s a lifelong development and learning to appreciate these questions rather than shame them changes the interpretation we have of ourselves.
I’ve learned to break this pattern, and I’m learning to embrace both my Colombian and American values.
There is such intricate beauty in difference because conforming to solely a single identity or value does not enrich our minds. We learn and develop new ideas and concepts from what is unfamiliar.
As editor for El Caimán, I cannot claim I know everything there is to my culture and the Spanish language, but I’ve learned to appreciate the unknown. I’m dancing between two worlds, but every day, I am learning from two perspectives.
I can safely say I’ll never stop learning.
Nicole Beltrán is the El Caimán editor for The Alligator.
The Hispanic community faces a unique and complex challenge: the art of code-switching. This linguistic duality allows us to navigate a world where cultural identity, professional advancement and social integration come together.
And as a second-generation American raised by Cuban parents in Miami, who grew up bilingual speaking Spanish at home and English in school, it wasn’t until I was a young adult when I first heard the term “codeswitching” that I realized it was something I had been doing my entire life.
Code-switching is the act of shifting between two or more languages during a conversation, as well as the adjustments made by a member of an underrepresented community — whether intentional or not — in terms of their language, sentence structure, grammar, conduct and appearance to conform to the prevailing cultural norms.
While everyone can relate to having different ways of presenting themselves in different settings, Hispanic people use it to embrace their roots while also adapting to the expectations of mainstream American society.
Recently, I’ve seen creators on TikTok who have been using this term but not in its entire context. Many of them have, possibly unknowingly, reduced it to simply bilingualism. While switching between two languages in a conversation and combining words from multiple languages in one sentence falls under code-switching, it is more nuanced than this.
For example, the way I speak English in Miami is different from the way I speak English outside of Miami. At first, I did not notice that I was doing this, but eventually, it made sense. At home I was comfortable and able to be myself around people who were not going to give me dirty looks or judge me because of my Miamian/Cuban accent.
A misconception about codeswitching is that you’re not being authentic because you are showcasing multiple personalities. However, it is important to remember that there has always been a stigma around Hispanic people.
Evelyn Miguel opinions@alligator.orgIn a world where Hispanic women are stereotyped as loud and opinionated, we need to protect ourselves from people who find us aggressive in the way we speak and carry ourselves. In job interviews, we need to code-switch because of the stereotype that our accent indicates a lack of education.
While this is true for so many people in the Hispanic community, it is not true for all. I truly admire anyone who doesn’t conform to social norms and is unapologetically themselves no matter the setting because codeswitching is a means of survival for many Hispanic people. It becomes exhausting to hide ourselves in fear of validating negative stereotypes.
In a perfect world, I wish I wouldn’t have to hide aspects of my personality to fit in or make a good impression on employers. This is why education and awareness about code-switching are vital, both within and outside the Hispanic community. I hope that after learning more about why Hispanic people and other minorities codeswitch, we can all start working towards breaking these barriers and getting rid of these societal prejudices.
I am proud to be Cuban-American and to share all aspects of my culture with everyone who is open-minded and willing to embrace my accent, mannerisms and quirks of my personality.
Evelyn Miguel is a photographer for The Alligator.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2023
www.alligator.org/section/opinions
Mi país aún vive en mi alma. Existe en las palmas de plátano y en la masa entre los dedos de mi mamá. This experience is true for many Hispanic and Latin American migrants today. Naturally, nostalgic hearts seek refuge from estrangement in tradition and food.
My parents and I moved from Venezuela in December 2008, leaving behind the bulk of our family thousands of miles across the Caribbean. Weekly family gatherings were exchanged by lengthy, hours-long WhatsApp calls. Nevertheless, my immediate family cradled our culture closely while adapting to America. We paid homage to our roots in different ways.
My mother would gain infamy for her desayunos criollos, a Sunday morning breakfast tradition dubbed “El Especial De La Casa.” A plate consisting of arepas with eggs, queso blanco, caraotas, aguacate and a tomatada recipe passed down from my great-grandmother. Sometimes she would spoil us, adding a side of shredded beef. Hearty, filling and delicious — a meal made to prepare us properly for a mid-afternoon weekend nap.
My father has always been musically inclined. I think of him in a barn surrounded by men manning a grill, his calloused fingers strumming the four strings of his cuatro. Hymns of Venezuelan folk music would follow with lively tales of “Caballo Viejo’’ and “La Pena Del Becerrero’’ accompanying our meal.
These familia rituals foster a sense of cultural kinship tying us back to our birthplace and heritage. They help us ground our personhood in spite of time and distance. Today, as a Hispanic student living in Gainesville, my life consists of pseudo-religious as well as biweekly visits to Mi Apa and Flaco’s. However, despite the ease and comfort evoked by Hispanic fast food, nothing beats la comida casera.
Plantando semillas en tierra nueva
María Alvarez, a 77-year-old retiree born in the Dominican Republic, rents a garden plot in Gainesville, Florida. The 12-by-25 foot plot is quartered toward the back of a large field at the UF Organic Gardens Cooperative, located at 2617 SW 23rd Terrace. She ripped out weeds, overgrown from months of summer sun, from her garden by bundles loading them into a wheelbarrow before repeating the act. She looked up at me from under her wide-brimmed, sun hat and told me she had been living in the U.S. for over 30 years.
I thought to myself: ya debe estar acostumbrada.
David Turull, a 36-year-old Spaniard, shared the plot with Alvarez and assisted her in the weeding efforts. When the pair filled up the wheelbarrow Turull would wheel the weeds to the compost yard. We passed a row of narrow-trunked trees topped with long pointed leaves. It’s a root vegetable, Alvarez offered. She asked if I had any guesses. I conceded. It grows yuca, she said.
“You know yuca?” Alvarez asked. I’m surprised she even had to ask.
Back on the plot she shared her plans for the fall. They hoped to have the soil ready for new seeds by the end of September. Between bouts of uprooting weeds, Alvarez would point to plants and explain their function. She drew my attention to a shrubby plant with green, lobed leaves contrasting against a crimson stem and spiked, scarlet buds. Alvarez identified the flower as roselle, also known as Jamaican Sorrel. The flower is anti-inflammatory and it makes good tea, Alvarez said.
Growing crops seemed like another good way to stay grounded even among foreign soil. It seemed to be working for both Turull and Alvarez, at least.
“The land teaches you a lot,” Alvarez added.
Overtime we may grow accustomed to new palates, but we never forgo the traditions of our home. Certain memories evoke feelings of nostalgia mixed with a subtle solitude. In times of loneliness, we can turn toward food and summon warmth through communal ties while honoring our present practices.
Valentina Sarmiento is a reporter for The Alligator.
The views expressed here are not necessarily those of The Alligator.
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curb feelings of alienation, Latin Americans turn to the palate
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Florida has more than 500 student-athletes as of Spring 2023. Of that large population, 46 — or roughly 9% — are Hispanic. Despite the low overall numbers, Hispanic athletes have long made major contributions to countless UF sports teams.
For Hispanic Heritage Month, alligatorSports is highlighting some of these trailblazers and Gators legends whose stories can sometimes get lost in the world of Gators sports.
Carlos Alvarez — 1969-1971 football
Alvarez is one of the most prominent Hispanic athletes in Florida history. The “Cuban Comet” became a superstar wide receiver for the Gators on the gridiron in the late ’60s and early ’70s after his family fled from Havana to Miami in 1960.
Even over 50 years after his final snap at Florida Field, Alvarez is still UF’s all-time leading receiver with 2,563 career yards. He’s also the all-time leader in single-season and singlegame receptions with 88 and 15, respectively. Alvarez earned consensus All-American honors in 1969.
He was inducted into Florida’s Athletic Hall of Fame in 1986 and was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame in 2011. He is one of 10 Gators in the College Football Hall of Fame.
Ralph Ortega — 1971-1974 football
Following in Alvarez’s footsteps, Ortega became the next great Cuban star for the Florida football team. The imposing linebacker became one of the faces of the Gators’ defense in the early ’70s.
In 1973, Ortega helped upset then-rivals Auburn at Jordan-Hare Stadium for the first time ever. Ortega stuffed the Tigers’ tailback and forced a key fumble deep in Florida territory before halftime in the eventual 12-8 win.
Ortega earned first-team All-American honors in 1974 and first-team All-SEC honors in 1973 and 1974. He was inducted into the UF Athletics Hall of Fame in 1978.
Dara Torres — 1986-1989 swimming
Torres, the daughter of a Cuban real-estate developer, is as decorated as any Olympic athlete in Gators history. The Los Angeles native won 12 Olympic medals in her career — tied for most-ever by an American woman — including four gold medals.
At Florida, Torres dominated in the pool. She won nine championships in her college career and earned NCAA swimmer of the year and SEC athlete of the year honors in 1988. She even lettered in volleyball after her swimming eligibility ran out in 1990.
Torres became the first female swimmer to
compete in the Olympics in her 40s in the 2008 games. She also became the first American swimmer to compete in five Olympic games.
Áurea Cruz — 2000-2003 volleyball
Cruz is one of the most accomplished volleyball players in UF history. In addition to her legacy with the Gators, she’s also arguably the greatest women’s volleyball player in Puerto Rican history.
At Florida, she dominated for four years. Cruz earned AVCA first-team All-American honors three times and won SEC player of the year three times. She helped the Gators win four-consecutive regular season conference titles and reached the national championship for the first time in program history in 2003.
Cruz is still Florida’s all-time leader in kills with 1,815 and points with 2,188.5. She’s also eighth all-time in career digs with 1,320. She was inducted into the UF Athletics Hall of Fame in 2014.
After leaving the Gators, Cruz went on to have a distinguished professional and international career. She capped her sparkling career by representing Puerto Rico at the 2016 Olympics.
Al Horford — 2004-2007 men’s basketball
Horford, who was born in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic, was one of the anchors of a Gators men’s basketball team that won back-to-back national championships in 2006 and 2007.
He played power forward and center for Florida alongside fellow Gator great Joakim Noah.
Horford played in 109 games and started 100 of them in three seasons at Florida. His college career took a major leap his second year. Horford averaged 11.3 points, 7.6 rebounds and 1.7 blocks per game, and he helped UF hoist its first ever men’s basketball title in 2006.
Horford returned his junior year and built on a solid second year. He was named an Associated Press Third-Team All-American and was named the SEC tournament MVP as the Gators won a second-straight national title.
The Atlanta Hawks drafted Horford with the third overall pick in the 2007 NBA Draft. Horford has managed to carve out a successful 16-year career compiling several accolades such as five-time NBA All-star, 2011 ThirdTeam All-NBA Third Team and NBA All-Defensive Second Team in 2018.
Eddy Piñeiro — 2016-2017 football
Piñeiro’s path to football started on the soccer pitch, but his performance as a kicker in college bolstered him into a starter in the NFL.
Piñeiro, whose parents come from Cuban and Nicaraguan descent, was a standout soccer player in high school in Miami and at ASA Community College. He played just seven games of football in high school before joining
the Gators football team for the 2016 season. He played in 24 games across two seasons at UF.
The Miami native finished his Florida career with an 88.4% field goal conversion rate. which ranks first in Gators history. He also ranks sixth in made field goals with a college career-long of 54 yards.
In his second season in 2017, he had a 94.4 field goal conversion rate — connecting on 17 of his 18 attempts — which ranked as the best rate in the nation that season.
Piñeiro declared for the NFL draft after the 2017 season. He went undrafted but signed with the Oakland Raiders in 2018. He has since played for four NFL teams rosters and is currently the starting kicker for the Carolina Panthers.
Aleshia Ocasio — 2015-2018 softball
Ocasio made a major impact from the moment she joined the Gators softball team. She’s represented the Puerto Rican women’s softball team since 2015 and became a significant two-way player for UF in her four years in Gainesville.
She shut down hitters all four years with a 1.41 earned runs average — which ranks seventh all-time at UF — and won 71 of her 119 appearances on the mound. She set the program record for combined shutouts with 25.
She also kept hitters guessing with 549 strikeouts — good for seventh all-time in program history.
Ocasio also pitched the Gators’ first NCAA postseason seven-inning complete-game no hitter. She made the 2015 All-SEC Freshman team as Florida won the 2015 national championship. From 2016 to 2018, she was named to the First Team All-SEC.
Ocasio also contributed to the offensive side of the game. Her eight triples ranked top 10 alltime in UF softball history. She also compiled 73 runs batted in during her four-year career.
Marina Escobar - 2019 - current women’s golf Escobar has been a key contributor to the Gators women’s golf team. In her senior year, she played in seven tournaments and played in the No. 1 spot for NCAA Regionals for the second consecutive season.
She stood out in the SEC Championship with two top-10 and top-25 finishes and finished with a season-best T4.
In her junior year, she won her match 3&2 to send Florida to the SEC Championship finals for the first time in UF program history.
@JacksnReyes jacksonreyes@alligator.org
@Topher_Adams topheradams@alligator.org
The Gators were ranked No. 22 in the latest AP Top 25 Poll and moved up three spots from their Week 4 ranking after a sloppy, but victorious outing against the Charlotte 49ers. Florida (3-1, 1-0 SEC) defeated the 49ers (1-3, 0-0 AAC) 22-7 Sept. 23 and is on a three-game win streak for the first time since 2020. Despite the victory, there were glaring deficiencies in the Gators’ performance, which allowed Charlotte to stay close throughout a majority of the contest.
“It’s hard to win, and we certainly had to grind that one out,” UF head coach Billy Napier said. “Now, are we happy with everything that happened out there? No.”
There were several mishaps in the Gators’ performance. Florida’s offense failed to move the ball down the field a large part of the second half.
After the Gators marched 95 yards into the endzone on their first drive of the game, UF settled for field goals on its next three drives and added two more field goals in the final half.
Florida sophomore placekicker Trey Smack made his first collegiate start Sept. 23 and hit all five of his field goal attempts. He became the
fourth Gators kicker ever to hit five or more field goals in a single contest.
“It’s a good feeling to go five for five,” Smack said. “But I think Adam [Mihalek] could’ve done the same thing.”
The sophomore placekicker earned the starting job after a rough performance from former primary kicker Adam Mihalek, who missed an extra point and field goal attempt against No. 21 Tennessee the week prior.
Smack took over for Mihalek in the second quarter against the Volunteers and drained his first collegiate extra point attempt and field goal attempt from 27 yards out.
“Adam is a great kicker,” he said. “We were battling back and forth in practice all week.”
Smack converted three field goal attempts from within 30 yards during the game. Napier elected to have his sophomore kicker attempt one of the field goals in a fourth-and-one situation, and told reporters the analytics say “Don’t go for it right there.”
Smack’s historic night overshadowed many of the miscues the Gators special teams unit committed. There were two instances when Florida failed to have 11 men on the field along with multiple penalties committed by the unit. Napier challenged the notion of special teams mistakes postgame.
“Multiple penalties?” Napier said.
Early in the game, a 47-yard return by senior wide receiver Ricky Pearsall was expunged due to an illegal block in the back penalty, which Napier justified by saying penalties like that are common in the NFL.
“There’s very rarely an NFL return that doesn’t have a penalty,” he said.
While the penalty might be common, it is quite rare to see a team fail to put 11 men on the field two times in a single game.
“We didn't get the returner on right there in the middle of the field, and ultimately because of the sack, that's where the miscue was made,” Napier said. “We're OK with that. We're OK with the returner not being on the field in that situation.”
A similar situation occurred in Florida’s first game of the season against Utah. Eliminating penalties on special teams has been something the Gators have struggled with all season.
“I think it's all going to be very technical and very correctable,” Napier said.
The lone bright spot in Florida’s performance against the 49ers came on the defensive side of the ball. The Gators have continued to stifle their opponent's offenses and forced Charlotte to punt the ball seven times.
Florida sophomore linebacker Shemar James accredited the success to the effort and physicality the unit has
shown all throughout the season.
Gators sophomore linebacker Scooby Williams had a forced fumble in the first quarter which was recovered by Charlotte, but set the tempo for the remainder of the game, James said.
“It gave us that spark to start the game, and we kind of rode with that throughout the whole entire game,” he said.
UF has the fifth-best defense in college football in terms of yards allowed per game and the No. 18-best defense in points allowed per game. Last season, Florida ranked No. 87 and No. 97 in points and yards allowed respectively.
The Gators players and locker room have given kudos to defensive coordinator Austin Armstrong for the improvement.
“I think Armstrong just really trusts his players,” UF edge rusher Princely Umanmielen said Sept. 20. “He tells us all the time, 'Good players make good defenses.' So you know, when he's calling plays, he's calling plays based off the players he's got and trying to do it to their strengths.”
Florida will play on the road for its next matchup against the Kentucky Wildcats (4-0, 1-0 SEC) noon Sept. 30 at Kroger Field. The game will be broadcast on ESPN.
@lukeadrag ladragna@alligator.org