Josh Sanchez

What event was so impactful that it changed the trajectory of your life? 

I think mine is a bit far back at this point, so I turn 34 this month, but let's go back all the way to when I was 18. I'm one of five boys to a single mom, and being the oldest brother, I was very focused on my academics and the opportunities I had to build myself up for a good shot at getting into a solid college. In my senior year, I got nominated by my high school for a scholarship with the Posse Foundation, a program that recruits students from inner cities and partners with colleges offering full tuition scholarships. The process was intense, with three rounds of interviews. Going through that process, especially the second round where you choose your top three schools from a list of ten, was transformative for me. I wanted to discover who I was beyond my role as the older brother. 

I chose a school in Indiana, which being a New Yorker, I had no clue where it was on map. All I knew, is it was a 13-hour drive away from New York City, ensuring no surprise visits. Growing up low income, in public assistance programs, and at times with food stamps, the financial burden of college was daunting. The day I got the call saying I was selected for Posse; it changed my life. The Posse Foundation sends students in groups to universities, providing pre-collegiate training. It was a moment that altered the trajectory of my life. I remember waiting for the bus in the snow, thinking, "My life just changed, and now I'll have opportunities I never dreamt of." 

I attended school in the Midwest, in Greencastle, Indiana, a far cry from the Bronx. It was a challenge being in a new space, standing out on a rural campus. The experience included receiving a top-tier education from a liberal arts college, bringing me to the Midwest, where I've been in Chicago for the last six years. Prior to that, I spent 4.5 years in Indianapolis working for an internet company. I wouldn't have discovered the Midwest without the Posse Foundation, the opportunity to attend a great college, and the connections and friendships I built there. 

If you're comfortable, I'd appreciate it if you could share more about your experiences growing up as the eldest. In many Latino families, the eldest daughter often takes on a quasi-parental role, juggling numerous responsibilities. Did you encounter similar challenges being the oldest among your siblings? The expectation to hustle and carry a significant load—did you resonate with these dynamics? Additionally, you mentioned financial burdens; could you delve into how these pressures shaped your journey? 

Yeah, I felt the pressure, the pressure of setting an example, right? Even into my adulthood, I'm very much a rule follower. Even for little things, I'm like, no, we gotta do it this way. It makes me uncomfortable, gives me anxiety to not follow the rule that's been set here, even if it's about something trivial, like taking one when my friends say, let's take three. Nope, I can't do it. It just makes me uncomfortable because I grew up thinking I have to follow this very rigid, narrow path to be the example, to show them that we have opportunities outside of what is expected of us because of who we are, what we look like, and where we're from. 

So, I think that was a lot of pressure, very similar to the Encanto "Surface Pressure" song. As soon as I heard that for the first time, I was like, oh my God, this is my life personified. This is speaking to me. That was one source of pressure. But then I also enjoyed helping to lead things. My mom is a construction worker, still is, and was doing it since I was little. She's such a boss, but those were early days. My Mom was out of the house by 5:00 AM sometimes 4:00 AM, depending on where the job was. So, I was the one waking up my brothers, making sure everybody was up for school, helping with getting them dressed, making sure they brushed their teeth, ate breakfast, and out the door. 

One funny story that highlights how I felt like a parent early on: I took my brother to school one day, he was in kindergarten, I was in fifth or sixth grade when we were both in the same school. His teacher knew who I was and that I had this level of responsibility. One day, his teacher jokingly called my teacher, and said, "Hey, send Josh down." She brought my brother out and said, "Take a look at him. Tell me what's off here." I didn't notice anything, and then she pointed out that his shoes were on the wrong feet. They were pointed outwards. While it was a funny moment between the two of us, I worried about not making that mistake again moving forward. I think back on it and realize even at a young age I was holding myself to such high standards even for trivial things that weren’t that important.  

In terms of financial awareness, I don't think I realized it in the moment. I knew we weren't wealthy. We struggled during moments, living in a small three-bedroom apartment with six people, one bathroom to share. I knew we weren't living a higher life. The realization magnified when I went to college, seeing friends with multiple houses, cars bought for them, and realizing their lives were vastly different from mine. Going to friends' houses during holidays and seeing their homes made me aware of the differences. For some of my friends, I was their first non-white friend, and being able to share my story helped them recognize their privilege and understand that people don’t all have it the same. It wasn't a third-world country situation; it was right here in their midst. For a few years in college, I was hesitant to bring anyone to my house, thinking they would judge me, but eventually, I embraced my story and shared it to help others understand the different perspectives. I’ve grown more proud of my roots over time and it’s empowering to reflect back.  

I resonate with your story as I grew up in similar circumstances. You know, amidst all these organizational shifts occurring during the current macroeconomic climate, there's a prevailing sentiment that if the worst-case scenario unfolds, a great number of individuals have a support system to lean on—family, friends, or other safety nets. However, it's quite different for me. There's this constant apprehension hanging over me because, in my case, if the worst happens, it feels like my entire livelihood is on the line. I'm curious about your perspective on this. 

Additionally, I'm intrigued by your journey from New York to Indiana. Relocating to a different state often brings about a cultural shift. Considering your mention of being the sole Latino within your circle of friends, did you experience a culture shock? How did this unique position influence your sense of identity and personal growth during that time? 

The Posse program is not a minority-based scholarship, but it tends to be heavily minority-focused. Recipients tend to be people of color because it recruits from inner-city schools. However, white individuals also receive the scholarship and participate in these programs. The school itself, we had a Posse population where you could see others from New York. Chicago is also a partner school with Posse, and is now the only city partner with DePauw. We had our group where, amid the sea of white, you could identify others from similar backgrounds. There were a couple sprinkled in, but it was the first time I felt like, "Oh, I'm brown." I’ve obviously always known it but this was the first time I was confronted by it, if that makes sense?  

Even before going to Indiana, as I was going through the scholarship program, one of my guidance counselors, a Black woman, pulled me in for a conversation. She asked, "Are you sure you want to go to Indiana?" She provided historical context, telling me that Indiana is the birthplace of the KKK, a very Red State, and I might encounter people who have never interacted with someone who looks like me. She gave me a disclaimer, but I thought, "It's gonna be fine. We're gonna be good." However, I realized that it felt like being the only one, and I almost left my freshman year after an incident where some local people yelled a racial slur at me as they drove by. It made me question if I belonged there, if I was safe, and if people even wanted me there. I went through a process of imposter syndrome and questioning if I earned my place there. 

Over time, I found my community, built great relationships, and got involved on campus. I joined a historically white fraternity. Our fraternity was diverse, with members from different backgrounds, including Posse kids. Joining a historically black or Latino fraternity was something I considered due to my identity. I wondered if I was a sellout or not connected to my identity because I didn't. It was about growing into my experience and confirming that, for me, it wasn't crucial. I could continue to work on connecting with my identity in different ways while still being part of this social club. 

Now, with my work in HOLA as a site co-lead, I'm tapping into our community and culture, wanting to be more connected. I've experienced being in white spaces and not feeling white enough, and in Latino and Black spaces where I didn't feel Latino or Black enough. This balance is part of why I'm doing the work with HOLA, wanting to feel more connected and give back to the community, making it a place of belonging for others. I hope that, as more Latinos, Latinas, and other BIPOC individuals join LinkedIn, they feel seen and part of a community. 

This is hands down one of my favorite conversations so far this year. It's incredible how our stories align. I, too, navigated an identity crisis in college and faced challenges with both white friends and my own family. This is why my role within HOLA is important to me. I, too, want to contribute to and enhance the existing community. To conclude, what advice would you offer to someone in a similar position? The question is generic as it can be about anything you’d like.  

Yeah, the fact that it is open makes it a difficult question to answer, but I'm gonna go with just some recent bias around conversations I've been having with leadership and the things I'm trying to do to propel my career forward. And I think it can apply in different spaces, but asking for what you want, owning your journey, whether that's in your career, health, or relationships, is crucial. Open communication and asking for what you want, then doing the work after that is super important.  

In my specific experience as a Latino, sometimes you might think just working hard is enough, that your performance will speak for itself. My mom, in her blue-collar environment, follows a similar approach – work hard and keep quiet. However, in the corporate world, you need to make your goals apparent. Be explicit with your manager, leader, or mentor. Tell them what you need and what you're doing to get there. Seek open communication and truly take ownership to drive your career forward. While hard work can be recognized over time, if you have a timeline associated with your goals, you must be vocal. Some may find it surprising to have such transparent conversations with their managers, but I encourage you to challenge yourself.  

Closed mouths don't get fed, so if there's something you want to say in your relationship or in any aspect of your life, go ahead and say it. Set intentions and goals and be transparent with those who can empower you to make them happen. Speak up and be specific when you come to the table for those conversations.