My family reunions are no small affair: At a summer gathering of the Pérez clan in my hometown of Gilroy, Calif., a sizable crowd showed up (my late grandparents had 15 children), and we ate tacos, drank Modelo, and talked about our shared loved ones and heritage. And yet, I couldn’t help but think about how much my approach to these lavish gatherings has changed since years past.
I remembered a long-overdue medical checkup I had at age 24 and the life-changing conversation that followed. The test revealed that at 5’10” I weighed 230 pounds, placing me in the Class 1 obesity category. A blood sample also revealed I had a fatty liver, sparking an entertaining conversation with my doctor.
“Is it because you’re hungover?” I asked.
“That wouldn’t have made much difference,” he replied. “You’d still be unable to drink for three months.”
That conversation saved me and put me on a path to better health and exercise, which has become my passion. But fitness remains a challenge for many Hispanics in the United States. Studies show that Hispanics are 70 percent more likely to be diagnosed with diabetes than non-Hispanic whites. And, according to a 2020 CDC report, 44.8 percent of Hispanic adults are obese, which offers a glimpse into why Latinos suffer from type 2 diabetes at higher rates than most other ethnic groups.
For people of Latino backgrounds, these struggles have been around for a long time. (Editor’s note: In recent years, the Commission on Human Rights and other organizations have adopted the term Latino to refer to these communities, which includes more Latin American groups.) And each generation has faced its own challenges. My father, Nestor Pérez, and the elder Pérez family members (second-generation immigrants to the U.S. from Mexico) each battled different issues. They worked in California’s fields and orchards, sometimes hiding from truancy officers to get through the new school year and help support their families.
Jack Gruber/USA Today
After those early years, things changed. The Pérez family was like other Hispanic families who often had more opportunities than their parents, a benefit of being born U.S. citizens, like my father and his siblings. The jobs changed to be less labor-intensive and better-paying. The Front Office As a sports reporter and certified trainer, I often spend my days at a keyboard in my home office. When I “go to work,” I’m at the gym working with clients.
I’m not the only fitness pro with a Latino background striving to change the tide of health for Hispanics and Latinos. You can find out by reading Men’s Health’s collection of stories showcasing Latino change-makers. You’ll learn about Peloton star Robin Arzon, MMA coach Javier Mendez, functional training guru JC Santana, and up-and-comers like online coach King G and Running Crew founder Hector Espinal. They’re all working hard to spread fitness knowledge to the Latino community. And they’re seeing more success, in part because those communities are taking more active control of their health. According to the 2023 U.S. Health & Fitness Consumer Report, from 2010 to 2022, Hispanics are the fastest-growing demographic in fitness facility memberships and spend more on monthly memberships (average $70) than any other ethnic demographic.
Yet, there is still work to be done to ensure our communities have the same level of access to health and fitness. Hispanics and Latinos make up about 20% of the U.S. population, yet our wealth lags behind that of white people. In my 10 years working as a personal trainer, I have only had two Hispanic clients. This is because I live in the suburbs of Washington DC, which does not have the same ethnic makeup as California (where Hispanics/Latinos make up 40% of the population, according to U.S. Census data). Given current trends in the fitness industry, and population growth more broadly, I hope that my clientele will expand to include people with the same background as me.
Still, I’m happy about how far we’ve come, but that doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten the past. There are dozens of ancestral photo boards that my mother (who recently became Pérez) made for reunions to remind us of that past. Even in black-and-white photos, the family humor comes through in images such as one of my grandfather pretending to chop down a sequoia with an axe.
There’s an equality to being Perez. Eight years ago, as I prepared for my third World’s Toughest Mudder race, with my dad on my pit crew, I thought about my own health progress and the health of my family, whose hard work paved the way for me to run, my grandparents and my dad’s generation.
By the end of the 24-hour obstacle course, I had covered 53 miles, about as close as you can get to the distance of two full marathons. (In keeping with Perez’s sense of humor, I imagined this as a “52.2 mile” car sticker to poke fun at marathon runners.) It was a personal victory, but one made even more meaningful by having my dad by my side.
My experience with Tough Mudder reminded me of the power that family traditions (and the broader scope of Latino cultural experience) have when pursuing goals. No matter what the challenges, we have the tenacity to move forward and make progress.
-AJ Perez, ACE-CPT and Journalist
Latino Changemakers in Fitness
Top to bottom: Courtesy of King, @iamthebay, Jason Rodgers for Peloton, Jason Bautista/@jpegs.art, Mauricio Paiz, Courtesy of Crispino, MH Illustration
