A Chinese Latino Migration Archive
Historical Context
Understanding the historical context that shaped the Chinese-Latino diaspora is essential. The contemporary identities and experiences of Chinese-Latinos have been profoundly influenced by global interactions and historical events that are frequently overlooked. Examining the Chinese coolie trade is a pivotal piece of this narrative.
The abolition of slavery in the United States, marked by the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863 and the passage of the 13th Amendment in 1865, was a significant turning point for industries reliant on enslaved labor. Alongside the 19th-century abolitionist movement and the end of the Civil War, these events served to shift global attitudes, morals, and political views on enslavement. They also exposed many contradictions: countries, like the United States and Britain, that had legally abolished slavery, still needed and wanted cheap and exploitable sources of labor exported from abroad.
As slavery was slowly dismantled in the U.S. and South America, European colonies and regions heavily reliant on an enslaved labor force faced an urgent need to replace their workers. The idea of "coolie" labor replacing enslaved African-Americans had already been raised during the Civil War, when southern plantation owners echoed Caribbean plantations in attempting to contract Chinese and Indian workers.1 In the post-Civil War era, colonial European powers—such as the British, French, Spanish, and Portuguese—continued to seek out new forms of cheap and exploitative labor, particularly for agriculture and infrastructure projects.
While attempts were made to use existing populations, such as European and Indigenous labor from the Yucatán for sugar fields in Cuba, these efforts proved unsuccessful. Eventually, colonial powers turned to Asia, initiating what is now known as the global coolie trade. This system, characterized by the mass migration of indentured Asian workers to fill labor shortages in European colonies, led to the emergence of a new diaspora. Among the affected communities were South Asians, whose descendants are now often referred to as Indo-Caribbeans, and the Chinese. Both groups have significantly influenced the culture and history of the Americas and the United States through various waves of migration. The exploitation of Chinese laborers during this period has come to be known as the Chinese coolie trade.
Recruitment and Journeys of Chinese Coolies
While some Chinese laborers arrived to the Americans voluntarily, the majority were victims of kidnapping or deceptive labor recruitment practices.2 It is important to note that most laborers were young men; Chinese women made up a very small minority in the Chinese coolie trade. Before embarking on their journey to Latin America, laborers were held in barracoons, similar to those used in the Atlantic Slave Trade that confined enslaved African people. Traveling on former African slave ships, Chinese laborers being sent to places like Cuba and Peru were kept below decks with armed officers who enforced strict corporal punishment. Conditions on the ships were overcrowded and unsanitary, leading to high mortality rates among documented voyages.
Although the coolie trade differed from slavery in its legal framework — compared to chattel slavery, which allowed for the enslavement of children born to enslaved people and extended ownership until death — the experiences of Chinese coolies can be seen as paralleling the exploitative conditions faced by enslaved Black people. Legally classified as indentured servants, Chinese coolies signed contracts, written in both Spanish and Chinese, committing to work for eight years upon their arrival in the Americas. Many were promised a monthly wage of four dollars, along with food, shelter, clothing, and medical care. Some historians argue that these contracts were primarily designed to distinguish indentured labor from the now-illegal slave trade, despite the fact that the conditions endured were strikingly similar to those of enslavement.
Chinese laborers were seen as a preferable alternative to the freed Black workers for a number of reasons, many rooted in racist tropes. Evelyn Hu-DeHart and Kathleen López, who have extensively studied Chinese-Latino history, explain that “white planters and officials perceived Asian migrants as more industrious, more economical, and less threatening than Africans.”3 The two historians also note that many planters and officials hoped that Asian workers would come to occupy a sort of in-between position in Latin American racial hierarchies, somewhere between the top (white) and the bottom (African and indigenous), and that this could have a "civilizing" influence on Black and indigenous workers. In many cases, Chinese workers were contracted to replace recently empancipated slaves. Consequently, regions like Cuba, heavily reliant on sugar production, became dependent on the exploitation of Chinese workers to sustain their economies.
Labor Conditions in Latin America
Once laborers arrived in the Americas, the horrific conditions experienced on their voyage did not improve. Coolie laborers faced grueling work in plantations, guano pits, and infrastructure projects, abuse by project overseers, and harsh living and weather conditions.1 Estimates suggest that between 1847 and 1874, the mortality rate for Chinese laborers ranged from fifty to sixty percent. In Peru, between 1849 and 1876, nearly half of the Chinese population aged nine to forty died from exhaustion, suicide, or ill-treatment.2
The pamphlet “Illustrated Description of the Living Hells,” published in 1875 by a prominent Cantonese publisher, vividly depicts the harsh conditions endured by coolies. Senior Lecturer Pierre-Emmanuel Roux of the University of Paris delivered a lecture on the publication, exploring its significance and highlighting ongoing kidnappings, mistreatment, and deaths of Chinese laborers.3 Roux describes the piece as a means to draw attention to a new form of slavery that persisted even after its supposed abolition in the Americas.
The first image below shows a Chinese man being forced onto a ship bound for Cuba. The second depicts a scene titled "Latrines as prison," illustrating recruiting agents who used humiliating, coercive means to "voluntarily" compel Chinese workers to sign an employment contract.
Roux explains that the format and style of the pamphlet is heavily influenced by the Yuli Chaozhuan (Jade Calendar Manuscript), a renowned moral text depicting severe punishments for sinners in Buddhist hells. Roux describes the piece below as picturing “refining sugar with human bones.” This death penalty scene represents the height of horror in Cuba’s sugar plantations. The concept depicted was all the more unbearable for the Chinese of the 19th century, whose rituals of the dead included preserving the body of the deceased and returning them, if far from home, to be buried in their native land.
Roux stresses the intended purpose of the pamphlet: as a warning. He notes that that “the author adopted a similar approach to better serve his purpose and thus reach as wide a readership as possible: the texts and illustrations depict Cuba and Peru as terrestrial hells and expose the means not to sink into it.” Although the pamphlet initially sold widely in bookstores across southern China, its success was fleeting. Spanish representatives in the Qing Empire demanded its censorship to prevent any potential anti-Western sentiment, and the pamphlet was taken out of print circulation.
Fortunately, several copies were rediscovered in recent years, where they had languished unnoticed in a handful of European and American libraries for over a century. Roux emphasizes the significance of this rediscovery for historians, noting that the illustrations offers "new primary material for understanding the coolie slave trade, as well as offering insights into various aspects of Chinese society" during the period.
Chinese Coolie Resistance
The verb mutiny refers to rising against or refusing to obey authority. Despite Western stereotypes of Asian people as passive and submissive, often perpetuated by the model minority myth, our community has a long history of resistance. During the period of the Chinese coolie trade, several documented mutinies occurred against oppressive conditions.
Two illustrations by Edgar Holden from Harper’s Monthly Magazine in 1864 depict a rebellion aboard a ship carrying Chinese laborers from Macau to Cuba: the illustration above depicts Chinese coolies preparing to mutiny, while the illustration below depicts rebelling laborers writing their demands in the blood of those who had fallen before them during the mutiny.
Although the revolt was ultimately unsuccessful, these images challenge the notion of Chinese laborers as passive victims and reveal their agency in the face of adversity. Moreover, resistance continued beyond shipboard mutinies. In Latin America, Chinese laborers faced severe control through debt bondage and harsh physical punishment but continued to resist. On plantations, many coolies employed tactics similar to those of enslaved African-Americans: confronting Chinese contractors, stealing, escaping, faking illness, striking, and disrupting production to protest their unfair conditions. In some cases, they also formed cross-racial alliances with African workers.
Because written accounts of the mistreatment within the coolie trade had been suppressed, as in the case of “Illustrated Description of the Living Hells,” public awareness of the extent of the abusive practices was low. This began to change in the 1870s. In 1872, Chinese coolies on the Peruvian ship María Luz escaped while docked in a Japanese port and reported their mistreatment to military authorities, who ultimately found that the conditions aboard the ship were on par with enslavement.4 In 1874, government officials dispatched by the Qing dynasty to Peru and Cuba, among other locations, found evidence of widespread abuse. These two events were critical to putting the spotlight on and ultimately ending the exploitative trade, as international pressure mounted. The question then became, what would happen to the Chinese workers who lived in places like Peru or Cuba?
The Aftermath of the Coolie Trade
After completing their contracts, many Chinese laborers who had been part of the coolie trade moved to major cities and began integrating into local communities. For instance, in Lima, Peru, some Chinese men found work as domestic servants or artisans, and some married native Peruvians. This led to the emergence of new mixed-race identities as early as the 1850s. This social integration did not take place without backlash: as the Chinese diaspora continued to spread and blend into communities across the United States and the Americas, sinophobia — an irrational and often racist fear or dislike of China, Chinese people, and Chinese culture — became increasingly prominent.
Justina Hwang of Brown University notes, “While the coolies were referred to as raza amarilla, china, chinos de la Gran China, chinos del imperio celeste, Celestes, or Nación asiática in respectful terms, and los amarillos or Macacos in less polite terms, their mixed-race offspring, who began appearing around 1870, were not assigned any specific name or racial category until the twentieth century.” Hwang explains that the lack of a precise racial classification for Chinese-Peruvians, a practice that had been common since the early colonial era, was used to further marginalize this group and signal their exclusion from broader Peruvian society. Moreover, discourse surrounding new racial mixing between Chinese immigrants and other ethnic groups in Peru often emphasized the foreignness and "unassimilable" nature of Chinese-Peruvians, framing them as inherently distinct from Indigenous and mestizo populations.
Violent Responses to Integration
In addition to the interpersonal and institutional racism Chinese immigrants faced in their new communities, there were also documented events in which Chinese immigrants experienced racially charged violence. One of the most notable instances of such an event was the Torreón Massacre, which happened in the Mexican city of Torreón, Coahuilla, in 1911. Leading up to the massacre, locals in Torreón were pitted against the Chinese population, with local community members scapegoating the Chinese population for stealing the jobs of Mexican women, particularly in the laundry business. Chinese workers and business owners were portrayed as “dangerous competitors” of the local people, and were attacked for the fact the Chinese population had a strong presence in the grocery, vegetable, and gardening industry. Other anti-Chinese ideas were fueled by accusations of Chinese men “vying for the affection and companionship of local women.” The language used to incite this violence echoes many Black Americans' experiences in the Jim Crow South, particularly anxieties over racial mixing and economic/social advancement, as well as the racist attacks many Chinese immigrants to America would experience in the late 19th century.
A total of 303 Chinese people were murdered in the Torreón Massacre. In the linked video, Dr. Mónica Cinco Basurto, who is of Chinese descent and has been an active member of the Chinese-Mexican community, discusses the violent incident and the experiences of her family as Chinese-Mexicans.
Despite hardships due to racial violence and discrimination, by the late 19th and early 20th centuries, perceptions of Chinese Latinos began to shift as immigrants increasingly integrated into their new homes. In Cuba, Chinese immigrants faced less institutionalized discrimination compared to other Latin American regions. Although stereotypes associated with the "perpetual foreigner" concept persisted, Chinese Cubans' participation in the Cuban wars for independence from 1868-1898, their successful formation of cross-racial alliances, and the Cuban republic's professed dedication to an ideal of racial democracy created conditions for their inclusion into the national citizenry. Dr. Kathleen M. López explores these ideas further in her book Chinese Cubans: A Transnational History.
In Peru, while some Chinese immigrants became prominent planters, artisans, or merchants, most established small businesses, such as stores, restaurants, and vegetable stands. Chinese immigrants opened affordable fondas (small eateries) in Lima as early as the 1860s, catering to working-class locals. By the 1920s, these fondas evolved into chifas: larger, more popular establishments that served as gathering places for celebrations within both Chinese and Peruvian communities. Today, chifas are an integral part of Peruvian cuisine and are celebrated for their unique blend of cultures. Chinese-Peruvians further solidified their place in Peruvian society by creating native-place associations and converting to Catholicism, thus forging meaningful and inclusive spaces within their communities — some of which still persist to this day.
New Waves of Chinese Migration in the Late 19th and 20th Century
In addition to the established system of coolie labor, racist American immigration laws also contributed to an influx of Chinese immigrants into Latin America. Anxieties over increased Chinese immigration to the United States had been rising since the 1850s, when many Chinese workers first came to the West Coast to work on railroad infrastructure or mining projects. Many white workers would not work for the low wages that Chinese laborers would accept out of necessity, heightening the perception that Chinese immigrants were "stealing jobs."1 A variety of factors — social and cultural prejudices, economic anxieties, and racism masked in the language of morality — led to citizens and lawmakers alike working for decades to prevent Chinese naturalization.2
State governments, like California in 1879, had enacted their own restrictions on how Chinese workers could live, work, and gain citizenship, but nothing was passed on a national level until 1882. In 1882, Congress passed the Chinese Exclusion Act, the first law to specifically target immigration from a specific ethnic group. These restrictions were reinforced over decades to come: 1888's Scott Act prohibited reentry to the United States after visiting China, while 1892's Geary Act extended the suspension of all new visas for Chinese workers for another ten-year period. Together, these pieces of legislation reveal a post-Civil War nation's anxieties over an increasingly non-white workforce attempting to find new opportunities on its shores.
Given the legal difficulties of immigrating to America and the intense prejudice experienced by those who did, Latin American countries became a popular and viable alternative for the Chinese diaspora. New Chinese-Latino communities quickly began to grow in countries such as Peru and Venezuela, with smaller groups in other Latin countries like Ecuador. However, Chinese immigrants still often encountered discrimination and prejudice in Latin America, facing segregated living conditions and discriminatory laws.
My Family's Story
My own great-great-grandfathers immigrated from Canton, China, to Ecuador, shortly after the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act. Seeking new opportunities in the midst of economic and social instability, Rafael Chan Lee Si, my grandmother’s paternal grandfather, came from Kwangtung (now Guangzhou), Canton, China. He settled in the coastal areas of Ecuador, married an Ecuadorian woman, and had ten children, one of whom I am named after: Clarisa. Below are the only photos of documents my grandmother still has in her possession. She was told this was everything Rafael had brought with him and received through his migration journey. We are still unsure what the Chinese text is, as well as who exactly is pictured.
In the 1940s, Rafael created a very successful soda bar and restaurant called Salon Chán, also known as Chán Chán. I've been told that Rafael was one of the first to master European-style ice cream in Guayaquil, where my family is from, and that he was a member of the Chinese Colony, then the leading Chinese association in town. My grandmother told me Rafael had to change his last name to “Durango” because the name belonged to a priest that helped sponsor his arrival. However, my cousin told me this change was involuntary; “Because of immigration laws, he changed his last name, so it was to be some sort of Spanish last name in order to be accepted into the country. It was a law in the city. The last name Durango is not originally Chinese, but the family took that last name. For example, there are many Chinese descendants who have the last name Cruz, which means cross in English but is cross in Spanish. The other last name is Diaz, which is also a Latino last name, but they had to take that last name to circumvent the immigration laws in Ecuador.” The reason for this name change is disputed in my family, but I think both possibilities reveal a lot about the need for assimilation among immigrants in “adjusting” to new spaces.
Chán Chán was “the place to go” in the city, attracting notable visitors like Pelé. Although photographs of these visits once existed, they are long gone. Chán Chán was ideally located just two blocks from Guayaquil's City Hall, making it a popular meeting spot, and it thrived for nearly half a century. My great-grandfather, Ramon, ran the business with his family until his death in 1986, when it was converted into a restaurant serving a mix of local Creole and Chinese cuisine. One popular dish, "3 en 1," combined fried rice, lo mein, and a fried wonton, and was highly demanded. The restaurant operated until 2001, when rising living costs and Ecuador's dollarization crisis made sustaining the family business unsustainable. Until that time, it was known as Res Chan.
My grandmother lived with Rafael in the back of the restaurant. She recalls how he would sit with her in the afternoons, play Cantonese music, and, on lucky days, enjoy biscuits or tea together when they could escape work demands. She describes Rafael as a cheerful, hard-working man and has tried to convey his “Chinese-accented Spanish,” though I can’t quite wrap my head around what it must have sounded like.
In my home country, Ecuador, my cousins have told me that Chinese cuisine is often considered a staple family-style food. This is partly because of the large portions and the strong love of rice among Chinese Ecuadorians. A popular dish, chaulafan — a fried rice typically mixed with protein like chicken, beef, pork, shrimp, or a combination — is especially well-liked throughout the country.
In a call with my cousin, who ironically goes by the nickname “Chino,” he told me “everywhere our ancestors went, they left for us a legacy of hard work and intelligence. Despite criminalization processes in those years, they bear great examples of resilience.” For me, Chino-Latino restaurants are so meaningful because they are a manifestation of my own ancestry. They are also particularly significant in their success and contribution to local culture in New York City.
Family Oral History Interviews:
Oral history can be a great way for anyone interested in filling gaps in the historical record with memories and materials from your own family. I found the story of my family history unexplained and completely missing from my history classrooms. In tracing my family's migration patterns, speaking with family members, and gathering primary sources, I encountered many different threads of global histories. In gaining a better understanding of overarching global history, I was able to better understand my family's place in it.
Chinese Latino New York
Amid political turmoil and economic instability in Latin America, many Chinese Latinos immigrated to the United States, particularly to New York City. During the latter part of the 20th century, the arrival of Chinese-Cubans contributed significantly to the vibrant Chino-Latino cuisine scene. In the late 1960s, these immigrants began opening restaurants on the Upper West Side to serve the working-class Latino community. La Dinastia, perhaps the most famous Chino-Latino restaurant in New York City, stands as a symbol of this cultural heritage.
One reason I believe Chino-Latino restaurants are such important and unique spaces is that the coexistence of Asian and Latino identities in these settings is not viewed as "other." In the United States, there is often a binary expectation to fit into and fully embody a singular racial category. For many, the Chinese-Latino identity can be particularly complex—even for myself, at times. Race, ethnicity, and nationality are not concepts that can be fluid in the ways we are taught about them in school. Moreover, Chino-Latino restaurants have served as spaces where my community has been able to positively contribute to the local community, while also persevering our rich culture and history when it is often untold.
Despite the importance of Chino-Latino restaurants, many have faced decline due to gentrification, prompting an ongoing fight to preserve AANHPI culture and history through these culinary spaces. “Specifically on the Upper West Side, there used to be so many Chino-Latino restaurants,” said Richard Lam, whose father founded La Dinastia, in an interview with Audacy. “Literally on almost every corner on Broadway from about 72nd Street to 101st Street. It was kind of just the trend back then.”
This loss highlights the complexities of cultural identity and local history. However, the efforts of community members, particularly on social media, have sparked a reemergence of support for the Chino-Latino restaurant scene. In a 2023 New York Times article titled "A New Hope for Manhattan’s Chino Latino Restaurants: TikTok," Christina Morales reports on how social media has helped repopularize Chino-Latino restaurants. "Mr. Lam’s [the owner of La Dinastía] struggle to stay relevant recently received a boost from an unlikely source: a series of widely viewed TikTok videos posted in the last few months from the account @RighteousEats, which has brought scores of new customers to the diner. The videos have ranged from highlighting dishes on the menu to explaining the restaurant’s history in Spanish."
As you explore the sources below, reflect on what it means to be Chinese-Latino and the significance of Chino-Latino restaurants within both the diaspora and the history of New York City. Do any of the experiences shared resonate with your own? How might these perspectives influence or reshape your understanding of what it means to be “Asian” and “Latino”? Consider how cultural traditions and personal identity intersect, and how this might present new insights or familiar connections for you.
Below, you can see two community responses to the closing of Chino-Latino restaurants through Jeremiah’s Vanishing New York Blog. Visit the site directly, reading through the comments on the blog posts, and focus on New York residents’ insights regarding the closure of Chino-Latino restaurants. Reflect on the implications of these closures, considering aspects like cultural significance and community identity. Think about how the loss of these restaurants affects local communities and what it reveals about broader socioeconomic changes in the city.
Chinese-Cuban Food is a New York essential
“Chinese-Cuban cuisine, often called ‘Chino-Latino,’ has always been a part of the fabric of New York City. But these days, La Dinastia is one of the last surviving restaurants serving this beloved food. We're excited to present Righteous Eats' debut collaboration with legendary TV producer Helen Cho (Parts Unknown, Takeout with Lisa Ling, United Shades of America with Kamau Bell): LA DINASTIA, the story of one of NYC's last Chino-Latino restaurants.”
Chinese Latino Fusion || Barrio USA
“Explore the delicious cultural food fusion of Chinese-Latino cuisine found in NYC with host Kat Lazo. Ever craved tostones with your lo mein? What about fried wontons with your ceviche? Maybe mofongo with sesame chicken? Thrillist's Kat Lazo is diving into the delicious beast of Chinese-Latino takeout in NYC at delicious restaurants Chifa and Caridad China.”
Latin Asians | Asian American Life
“Korean Dominican? Chinese Cuban? According to the latest census bureau, almost a half a million Asian Latinos now live in the United States – mostly residing in New York, Texas, and California. Reporter Tinabeth Piña traces the immigration history of this ethnic population and their contribution to American arts and culture.”
Oral History Archive: The Chino-Latino Project, Museum of Chinese in America (MOCA)
This collection consists of interviews with people of Chinese descent that immigrated to Central and South America before coming to the United States. The interviews explore the themes of Chinese-Latino identity in New York. A culminating exhibit was presented at MOCA and at the Bronx Museum of the Arts in 1998.
Local Chinese-Latino Restaurant Recommendations:
La Dinastía: 145 W. 72nd Street and 4059 Broadway
La Nueva Victoria, formerly Nuevo Jardín De China, at 32-05 Broadway, Queens, NY 11106
Flor De Mayo has three locations in New York City; 2651 Broadway (between 100th and 101st St), 484 Amsterdam (between 83rd and 84th St), and 4160 Broadway.
Calle Dão has three locations in New York City; 38 W 39th St (between 5th & 6th Avenues), 461 W 23rd St (between 9th & 10th Avenues), and 543 LaGuardia Place
Caridad China, 108 Graham Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11206
New Apolo has three locations in New York City; 508 Grand St, 1477 Myrtle Ave, and 2899 Fulton St
China Cocina, 103-10 Roosevelt Ave Queens, NY 11368
Sabrosura Restaurant, 1200 Castle Hill Ave, Bronx, NY 10462