Please give us an introduction to yourself, your work, and your background.

Dr. Luis J. Henao Uribe: I am currently the Humanities Director for the Humanities Alliance. In this role, I work closely with Graduate Center students, who are our fellows, as well as with our community college partners, including faculty and staff at four different community colleges. My role primarily involves facilitating communication between graduate students and community colleges, while also creating spaces for discussions where everyone can reflect on and make sense of the fellowship. This program is quite experimental in nature, so a large part of my work involves providing space for discussion—talking about what is working, what isn’t, and how these processes affect people’s experiences. It also ties into the professional development of our fellows, meaning I engage with them to understand their personal trajectories, discuss their aspirations, and explore how I can support them in achieving their goals.

I arrived at this position after first serving as a Humanities Scholar, which is a different version of my current role. Before that, I was a Humanities Alliance fellow in the program’s first phase while pursuing my graduate studies at the Graduate Center in the Latin American, Iberian, and Latino Cultures program. One of the most rewarding aspects of this job has been the opportunity to meet and work with an inspiring and diverse group of people. Every year, a new cohort of talented, intellectually curious individuals enters the program, each bringing their own unique academic, professional, and artistic perspectives. I don’t take for granted how fortunate I’ve been to engage with and learn from so many brilliant minds.

What was your undergraduate major, and how did you transition into your current field?

Luis: My undergraduate degree was in Social Communication and Journalism. The program covered a wide range of topics, including media studies, photography, filmmaking, and documentary work. Many traditional filmmakers emerged from my program in Colombia. I also did some journalism, both in Colombia and in New York, primarily cultural journalism.

Although my undergraduate background provided me with a strong theoretical foundation and writing training, I didn’t plan to pursue academia. After finishing my degree, I intended to open a restaurant! Before doing that, I decided to visit New York for a few weeks, and twenty years later, here I am. I came to New York in 2005, so it will soon be 20 years. There’s a famous tango called Volver, which talks about returning after 20 years—it feels like an expiration date!

I first arrived in 2005 for a vacation, stayed for a while, and spent some time undocumented, working various jobs—flipping burgers, doing construction work, and taking any opportunity that came my way. Eventually, I got my documents, started my master’s in Spanish at City College, where I studied both linguistics and literature. I began teaching there, and then pursued my Ph.D. at the Graduate Center, and graduated in 2018. Looking back, my career path was not meticulously planned, but I’ve remained open to possibilities, and things have unfolded as they have.

What was your specific area of study in graduate school?

Luis: My department had what I consider the worst name in the history of the Graduate Center—Hispanic and Luso-Brazilian Languages and Literatures. Later, it was changed to something equally convoluted: Latin American, Iberian, and Latino Cultures. My focus was primarily on literature, specifically the study of the novel, with a concentration on Latin American literature. My academic work centers on Colombian literature, though I have explored other areas as well. My approach to literature has always been interdisciplinary, engaging with history, politics, and social movements.

Can you tell us more about your dissertation research topic?

Luis: Although I have always been interested in Colombia, my time in New York exposed me to people from different cultures, which led me to do something comparative. I focused on two historical periods: the Mexican Revolution in the early 20th century and La Violencia in Colombia, a partisan civil war in the 1950s and 1960s. I examined the cultural production of these times, particularly the role of the novel in shaping national identity and state-building. One of my arguments was that both historical events contributed to the formation of new versions of the state. Comparative work is challenging because it requires deep knowledge of multiple cultural and historical contexts, but I enjoyed the challenge. Writing the dissertation was a difficult process, and I have mixed feelings about it. But completing it was a significant accomplishment, and there are at least a few paragraphs in it that I really love!

I think every dissertation writer experiences that internal battle—sometimes you are deeply proud of your work, and other times, you question everything about it. But ultimately, it represents years of effort, and I am grateful for what I learned through the process.

You’ve written two books. Can you tell us about them?

Luis: Writing has always been a part of my life. When I arrived in New York, I became involved in a vibrant literary community, including poetry collectives and cultural movements. During my master’s degree at City College, I took a creative writing course with Professor Carmen Boullosa, which played a crucial role in shaping my novel. I had a group of classmates who were an integral part of that process, providing support and inspiration. My first book was a collection of short stories about life in New York, particularly the experience of new arrivals adjusting to the city. It explored themes of being caught between different languages, cultures, and unfamiliar places—a feeling of limbo, much like a purgatory of sorts, where one exists in an undefined in-between state. That book captured a significant moment in my life, a time of transition, uncertainty, and freedom. My second book, Hotel Jaguar, is a novel set in a fictional U.S. city influenced by Latin American culture. The novel follows characters who stay at an old, crumbling hotel—people who are either running from something or searching for something unknown. It serves as a metaphor for migration, transition, and is marked by fears of economic instability, rapid gentrification, and the erosion of spaces with deep cultural roots. Hotel Jaguar is about history, identity, and the tension between preserving the past and embracing change, coming of age, birth and death, shifting seasons, and ultimately, grief.

Your books seem to be deeply influenced by your own experiences as a migrant. I was wondering if, during your time teaching, you incorporated these themes into your courses. Were they focused on literature, political literature, or other related topics? 

Luis: Yes, absolutely. For much of my teaching career—like many of us who teach at CUNY—I primarily taught Spanish language courses to fulfill students’ language requirements. These classes mainly focused on grammar and vocabulary, though I always tried to integrate elements of culture whenever possible. However, language courses are not typically considered content-based classes.

As a Humanities Alliance fellow, I had the incredible opportunity to teach a Latin American literature course in Spanish at LaGuardia Community College. This experience was especially meaningful because my students came from diverse backgrounds. Many were recent immigrants, while others were heritage speakers—students whose parents or grandparents were from Latin America. They had grown up speaking Spanish at home but had been educated in the U.S. school system, creating a unique linguistic and cultural dynamic in the classroom.

Over the three semesters that I taught the course, we were able to shape the material in ways that connected to the students’ own stories. It was a rewarding experience, as it allowed us to explore Latin American literary classics—such as the poetry of Pablo Neruda—while also engaging with contemporary forms of cultural expression, like reggaeton and hip-hop. We examined how these different modes of storytelling reflect Latin American history and identity, helping students recognize how these themes continue to resonate in their own lives.

Do you want to share with us any last word of advice for the graduate students that you learnt through your life experiences and/or working with graduate students as a mentor for a few years? 

Luis: When I began studying and teaching at City College, I became part of a group of colleagues who were either Graduate Center students or City College students at the time—many of whom later went on to study at the Graduate Center. We were all teaching Spanish, and for some reason, our classes would often end at the same time. As a result, we developed a routine of having lunch together a couple of times a week over several semesters. That space—those lunchtime conversations—became incredibly important to me. We would discuss everything from how to teach the subjunctive or introduce vocabulary related to la familia to practical concerns like how to register for classes or complete final projects. I looked up to them as guides and mentors. Their generosity in sharing their experiences and advice left a lasting impact on me. When I later became a student at the Graduate Center, I wanted to carry that same spirit of generosity forward. Since then, I’ve been very intentional about not only mentoring others but also creating spaces where people can share their experiences with one another. Pursuing a Ph.D. can be an isolating experience, so it’s essential to actively cultivate opportunities for connection and support. Even as a graduate student, I found myself engaging in informal, organic mentorship relationships with my peers and other students—not because I set out to do so, but simply as a response to the kindness and guidance I had received from others. Now, in my more official capacity as a mentor, I see how crucial it is to have structured support systems in place.

One of the strengths of the Humanities Alliance is that it actively allocates resources to mentorship. Too often, mentorship happens informally, in passing conversations between meetings, which isn’t enough. By creating intentional spaces for these discussions and dedicating resources—such as the funding of my role—the program ensures that fellows receive the time and guidance they need. In many ways, my position is about providing that time: offering support, fostering connections, and helping fellows navigate their paths in a meaningful way. For me, one of the most important lessons has been learning how to listen—truly listening in an effort to understand. Every interaction I have with someone is shaped by where they are in their personal and professional journey, as well as the particular moment they are experiencing in their lives. When people are stressed or overwhelmed, it often has more to do with their current circumstances than anything else. My role, then, is to help provide perspective, to encourage people to step back and see beyond the immediacy of their worries.

I’ve also learned that people are not always at their best, and that’s simply a reality of life. This was something I first realized as a professor. I remember a student once submitted an assignment that was clearly copied and pasted from Google Translate. Initially, I was frustrated, but then I stopped to ask myself: Why did they do this? What were they struggling with? That moment changed my perspective. Everyone is going through their own battles, and making a poor decision on one particular day doesn’t define who they are. This realization has shaped my approach to mentorship, teaching, and life in general. I remind myself that I, too, am not always at my best. That understanding has led me to approach others with greater generosity and, just as importantly, to encourage them to extend that same kindness to themselves. Ultimately, I think that is one of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned.

When I talk to graduate students, I often sense a tremendous fear of the future. Given the current uncertainties—especially with funding running out and the pressure of figuring out what comes next—it’s understandable why so many feel anxious. The future can seem daunting, even bleak at times. For some reason, I’ve always had a deep trust in the future. I don’t mean that I have everything figured out, but I’ve learned to take leaps into the unknown without fear. And once again, I find myself doing just that—embracing uncertainty and feeling at peace with it. If graduate students could see themselves the way I see them, I believe they would approach the future with more confidence. They are incredibly intelligent, creative, and professional individuals, but often, they are too caught up in the struggles, stress, and uncertainty of the moment to recognize their own brilliance. I see it, though. I see people searching for their place, navigating difficult transitions, and pushing forward despite the challenges. And I know they are capable of so much more than they sometimes realize.

Any thoughts on what’s next for you? Are you still considering opening a restaurant if you go back to Colombia? 😀

Luis: I don’t know exactly what’s next for me, but I feel good about that. I still have my original business plan from 2003, full of youthful dreams. I still fantasize about opening a place that serves incredible meals while also being a space for cultural events and literary gatherings. Now I have more experience, so we’ll see—maybe things will come full circle. Who knows!

Looking back on my career path, I’ve always been quite adaptable. While I had certain goals and interests guiding me, I never strictly planned how things would unfold. Instead, circumstances and opportunities shaped my journey. For instance, I never imagined becoming a professor until I found myself in a classroom for the first time, realizing how unexpected yet fitting the role was. Similarly, my position with the Humanities Alliance was something I never anticipated. My path has been full of surprises, but at its core, it has always been driven by an intellectual and perhaps even a humanistic or political curiosity—something I’m still in the process of defining. I haven’t abandoned any particular path; rather, I’ve remained open to possibilities as they arise. I do have a novel and a short story collection ready for publication though, so there’s more to come soon! 

This interview was conducted by Mehrnaz Moghaddam.