Immigrant children find belonging through basketball 

In one corner of the packed Corona Golf Playground, young kids performed dribbling drills and crossover moves with their coaches. The 6- to 12-year-olds are members of a basketball academy catered towards Spanish-speaking immigrant children in Queens.

The academy was started by Lorena Valero and her partner David Valencia last year. It helps recently arrived kids navigate culture shock, bullying, and lack of community. It’s also helping first-generation young players hold on to their parents’ language and culture. 

The Raccoons from Queens

The team name is the Raccoons, and for a very specific reason. “Raccoons are very interesting animals because of how they are able to adapt effectively to different situations and environments,” Valero said in Spanish. “They are very skilled with their hands and they like to be in a group. They work very well alone and with their herd.”

She says this reflects the story of many immigrants and their children.

About 30 kids, mostly from Venezuela, Ecuador, and Mexico, have been part of the Raccoons. While the team is small, its founders say it’s the only Queens-based basketball program of its kind. They started the program 15 months ago amid the instability of changing shelter policies, uncertain permanent housing and job prospects, and dwindling city funds to support newly arrived families. 

Being bilingual on the basketball court

Adriana Arrieta, a Raccoons parent, had been in the United States only about a month, but had learned about the Raccoons through her sister. She and her son, 11-year-old José Manuel Cortez, commute to Corona from Jamaica, Queens. 

“He is very disciplined about arriving early [to practice] but not to school,” she said. 

José says his main goal in Raccoons is being more comfortable speaking with others in English. When he first started school, he was too nervous to even ask to use the bathroom, so he would hold it in. His father practiced with him at home. But Arrieta says it was more about his confidence than his language skills. Both have gotten a boost. 

“I used to be shy, and now I talk to other kids,” José Manuel said. “And I feel like I’m growing, because they make us jump a lot!”

The Raccoons program was built to be bilingual. The coaches’ instructions are in English and Spanish. The kids who speak English well help Valero with her own language proficiency. They in turn also get to practice their Spanish with their non-English speaking teammates.

A better life with basketball

Valero and Valencia, who are also recent immigrants, met as kids playing in the same basketball tournaments in Bógota, Colombia. A decade ago, Valencia and a friend started a basketball club for youths in Colombia called the Moles. He left the Moles when he immigrated to New York in 2019. 

“At the beginning, I was in that struggle of the immigrant looking for a job, so I couldn’t keep working as a coach or in sports here,” Valencia said in Spanish. 

Valero arrived here in 2021. She and Valencia would play basketball at Christ Lutheran Church in Woodside. This is where they got the idea to start the Raccoons. There were kids always hanging around at practice, waiting for their parents. They realized they could teach the kids basketball — with a side of language skills.

“Many parents would tell us, ‘yes, I would want to bring my son, but only speak with him in Spanish, because I want him to speak Spanish at home — we are not from here and I don’t speak English,’” Valencia said. 

They also keenly felt the plight of children who had recently migrated or were seeking asylum: “That culture shock is sometimes very difficult,” Valencia said. “So we said, ‘why not give them an opportunity to also learn English through sport, through basketball?’” 

An assist to build community 

For the full hour each of the two age groups practices, fidgeting is minimal and trash talk is virtually nonexistent. Smirks and a few crossed arms have their own language. 

Last year, the coaches found out one of the girls in the program was being bullied. They left it clear: the court was a zero-bullying zone. They say there have been no issues since, in great part because of the team spirit they cultivate.

Valencia and Valero’s own experiences finding belonging through basketball drove them to focus on the same with the Raccoons. When Valencia first arrived, language was a big barrier to make the city feel less lonely. So he started heading to parks and asked, through an interpreter, to join pick-up games. 

“I would tell them, ‘I can’t express myself through English, but I know the language of basket,” he said. “It’s like a world language, because just with a sign, a clap, a shout, a whistle, a sound, people are already going to understand.”

Immigrant hoop dreams

The Raccoons practice three times a week. Families pay a $150 monthly fee, about a third of what other youth basketball programs in the city cost. In special cases, the co-founders offer financial aid.

“What we want with these prices is for them to commit, to not simply see it just as an activity,” Valero said. “We want to help them improve their basketball skills and earn a college scholarship.”

Players and parents say the Raccoons league has helped these kids see a path for themselves in basketball.  The dream is a personal one for some Raccoons. 12-year-old Angel Muñoz wants to be the next Stephen Curry. 

“I just want my mom to give basketball a chance,” Angel said.

His mom is open to the idea of her son having a basketball career. She cites her own experience as proof of openness: she and other parents created an unofficial parents team of their own. They play, practice English and Spanish, and build community while waiting on their children.  

The future of the Raccoons  

Valero says they’re working on turning the program into a nonprofit. They’d also like access to a gym during the winter. As it stands, they have to rent spaces when it’s cold out.  

“Our plan is to earn recognition in the sports arena as a club where all migrant children … can achieve basketball college scholarships,” Valero said. 

This extends beyond kids of Latin American descent. Not long ago, the family of a 9-year-old who immigrated from Indonesia approached the coaches. He had already been playing basketball at a high level back home. 

“So when I gave some indications, he already understood it,” Valero said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell the kids — basket is a universal language.” 

Read more of our stories about New York City’s vibrant immigrant communities.