These young Hispanics who can’t vote are encouraging those who can — but to what end?

Seven persons, all younger than 30, fanned out last weekend through Kansas City, Kan., in a door-knocking effort to get out the Hispanic vote.

Just one was an eligible voter.

Two were U.S. teens under legal age. Most of the others were part of the precarious reality in which Frida Sanchez, 19, resides — non-citizens wishing they could cast ballots.

After all, their futures may depend on the outcome of these midterm elections.

Sanchez can’t vote. A college student for now shielded by the federal umbrella known as DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals), she is a civic-minded adult whose only home since age 5 has been around Kansas City, Mo. DACA grants children who came to the country illegally temporary, renewable protection from deportation.

But lacking citizenship, she’s not allowed at the polls. Instead, she’s doing what she can to matter — helping more than 100 young adults who are U.S. citizens get registered, and hoping that they vote.

“I tell them: ‘You’re lucky you can vote. Use that power, use that voice,’” she said.

“For some it’s really important for me to tell my own story,” said Sanchez. “But I have a lot of conversations with people saying that they don’t think their voting will make a difference.... They straight-up won’t do it.”

Latino Americans historically post among the lowest voter turnout rates of any ethnic group in the country — below whites, blacks or Asian descendants. And history shows that Hispanics as a bloc don’t boost any certain political party, making their impact on this election especially unclear.

Their demographic favored Republican incumbent George W. Bush for president in 2000 and 2004, and Democrat Barack Obama the next two cycles.

This cycle?

The immigration debate has never been so much in the faces of U.S. voters of Central American heritage, and that could mean more Latinos turning up at the polls. But how most will vote, who can say?

“Many Latino persons who are older voters, they’re very traditional,” said Diana Yael Martinez of the local Advocates for Immigration Rights and Reconciliation, a proponent for comprehensive reform.

Among the more conservative, including Catholics against abortion, “there can be some hostility toward (undocumented immigrants),” she said. “It’s like, ‘Our ancestors came legally and ultimately gained citizenship. Why can’t they?’

“It’s definitely a mixed bag.”

National surveys show about 80 percent overall support for so-called immigrant “Dreamers” such as activist Sanchez. And among registered Hispanic voters, two out of every three hold an unfavorable view of President Donald Trump, according to an Oct. 7 poll conducted by Morning Consult.

But it doesn’t always feel that way for Sanchez and others knocking doors for the Kansas/Missouri Dream Alliance. The group promotes higher education for immigrant and minority youth regardless of citizenship status.

To them this election is urgent: Just for starters, some Republicans running in Kansas — among them, gubernatorial candidate Kris Kobach — seek to end in-state tuition breaks for illegal immigrants. That would include Sanchez.

Chances for many others even having a home in this country could hang in the balance, say Dream Alliance activists such as Alex Martinez, 27.

“My liberties depend on their vote,” he said of U.S. citizens eligible to cast ballots.

He is not among them. Yet in the days before this election he is working the streets, trying to get Kansas Citians who can vote to do so.

Immigration debate

In states that Trump won — including Kansas and Missouri — the polarizing nature of the immigration debate makes the efforts of activists Sanchez and Martinez even more of an uphill battle.

Nationwide, many Republican candidates have latched onto the caravan of Central Americans marching through Mexico as reason to support the GOP’s stance on strong borders. And Trump recently has stirred up more immigration arguments by pledging to end the constitutional right to citizenship for the children born in the U.S. to unlawful foreigners.

Some left-of-center groups, recognizing the volatility of the topic, recommend that candidates spend “as little time as possible” talking about immigration. Instead, focus on health care and taxation.

A four-paged memorandum, prepared by the liberal Center for American Progress and the centrist nonprofit Third Way, has been shared at many briefings for Democrats in national races, The New York Times reports.

“It is very difficult to win on immigration with vulnerable voters in the states Trump carried in 2016,” the strategy memo said.

Furthermore, in federal elections dating back to 1980, no more than 52 percent of U.S. citizens of Latino descent have gone to the polls, according to census data. That’s 10 to 15 percentage points below the turnout for non-Hispanics.

‘Lucky you can vote’

Frida Sanchez is out there in heavily Latino KCK knocking on doors.

Some who respond aren’t kind.

“Mexicans are coming here for that almighty American dollar,” said a middle-aged woman on Boeke Street. She was listed on Sanchez’s phone app as a registered Hispanic voter, last name Estrada-Munoz.

“I’ve quit watching the news. All I see is Mexicans and black men causing trouble,” the woman said. “I don’t normally vote.... The last time was when Ronald Reagan was president.”

Canvasser Sanchez handed her some reading material and thanked the woman for her time.

There were younger, more agreeable voters down the block, the kind whom Sanchez has been appealing to all year at area high schools.

A project called “The Power of 18” offers grants and encourages registration of Hispanic voters in an era in which one turns 18 years old every 30 seconds.

That’s 800,000 new U.S. voters of Latino descent every year.

Sanchez is at least a decade from being among them, or perhaps she’ll never gain full citizenship.

Her younger sister, who is 12, was born in America. She’s a citizen who one day can vote.

“For her age right now, she’s very mature,” Sanchez said. “She tells me, ‘I wish I could give you my papers so you could do all you’re able to do. I’d give you my vote so you could vote.’”

For DACA residents such as Sanchez, a younger sibling who is native to the U.S. can be the best assurance that their own lives will continue here. Once 21, a brother or sister can set in motion legalization processes.

But for now, their fate may hinge on the election outcome.

To those she meets, Sanchez keeps repeating: “You’re lucky you can vote.”

This story was originally published November 1, 2018 at 5:30 AM.