Adrian Florido

Two days before the presidential election, a remarkable media narrative was taking shape. Latinos, huge numbers of them, were turning out to vote early, and they were doing it in crucial swing states.

It looked like the election, in which many Latinos had felt attacked by the Republican candidate, Donald Trump, was going to end with the most poetic justice. Latinos were going to deliver Trump's candidacy its final death blow.

Florida Sen. Marco Rubio got booed off a stage in Orlando on Sunday by a crowd that was overwhelmingly Latino.

It happened at Calle Orange, a street festival in downtown Orlando geared toward the city's large Puerto Rican community. The icy reception was an indication of the challenges that Rubio, a Republican of Cuban heritage, has faced in locking down support from Latinos in Florida as the state's Latino electorate has begun to shift to the left.

Around a candle-lit altar honoring one of the victims of the mass shooting in Orlando, Anthony Laureano and his friends hold hands, mourn in two languages, and say a prayer:

"Estamos aqui ... We're here together ... Porque no somos diferentes ... Because we're not different."

Nearby, Francheska Garcia holds a collage of photos of her friend Jonathan Camuy. "What I'm going to remember is his smile," Garcia says. "He was Puerto Rican. Because usually our parents live over there and we're the rebel ones who move here, to make it on our own."

This story is part of an occasional Code Switch series we're calling "The Obama Effect." The series explores how conversations about race and identity have evolved over the course of the Obama presidency. You can read more about the series here.

With a series we're calling The Obama Effect, the Code Switch team is digging into all sorts of questions about how President Obama's tenure has — or hasn't — shaped how we all perceive our own racial and ethnic identities.

Last month, we told you that the Code Switch team is embarking on a big reporting project we're calling The Obama Effect. The series, coinciding with the final year of Barack Obama's administration, will explore the ways that his presidency has (or hasn't) altered how Americans talk and think about race, ethnicity and identity.

After a turbulent week spurred by racial tensions at the University of Missouri, students are reflecting and thinking about what changes they hope for next on campus.

After anonymous threats targeting black students at the University of Missouri were posted online Tuesday evening, saying things like, "I'm going to shoot any black people tomorrow, so be ready," the fear on campus grew quickly.

Some black students were so scared that they left their dorms to stay with friends off campus. Others didn't go that far, but did stay inside and away from windows.

Presidential candidate Donald Trump's proposal to deport all 11 million immigrants living in the country illegally, along with their U.S.-born children, sounds far-fetched. But something similar happened before.

During the 1930s and into the 1940s, up to 2 million Mexicans and Mexican-Americans were deported or expelled from cities and towns across the U.S. and shipped to Mexico. According to some estimates, more than half of these people were U.S. citizens, born in the United States.

Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump repeatedly referred to "criminal aliens" and "illegal aliens" in the immigration plan he released on Sunday. "Alien," and especially "illegal alien," have become such staples in the vocabulary of conservative pundits and politicians that many immigrant rights advocates now reject those terms as derogatory and dehumanizing.

But it wasn't always like that.

The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People is holding its annual convention in Philadelphia this week. For much of its 106-year history, it has been the nation's preeminent voice for civil rights and social justice. Among the topics of discussion this week: recent events in Baltimore and Ferguson.

But NAACP leaders have also addressed claims that their organization is losing relevance, especially for young people who are coming of age in an era of online activism and new protest movements like Black Lives Matter.