Oscar Mejías is a Venezuelan immigrant who has lived in Rhode Island for 17 years. Oscar shares his story of coming to the United States, the challenges he faced as an immigrant, and how he eventually started his own businesses and organizations to help the community. He discusses his journey of opening a school to train older adults in technology, starting a bilingual nursing program, and founding the Rhode Island Latino Chamber of Commerce to support local businesses. Throughout his story, Oscar emphasizes the importance of self-love, helping others, and learning from people who are better than oneself. He also reflects on the differences between being a father and a grandfather, and the lessons he hopes to pass on to his daughters. Overall, the interview highlights Oscar's resilience, entrepreneurial spirit, and dedication to serving the Latino community in Rhode Island.
When I came to Rhode Island, I had no job lined up. Someone invited me to work at a car wash, and I took it. I remember telling my coworkers, I won’t be here forever. I’m going to start my own business. Some of them had been there for 30 years, but I was determined to move forward. Like all immigrants, I did what I had to do to support my family. But I never lost focus—this was temporary. After almost a year of washing cars, I got a job in Massachusetts testing electronic equipment. It was a step back into my field. I worked there for a year before the company moved overseas.
Around that time, the 2007–2008 economic crisis hit, and I saw an opportunity to help people who had lost their jobs. I met many former factory workers—people who had spent years in manufacturing but suddenly found themselves out of work with no idea how to start over. Since I had a background in technology, I decided to open a school to teach these adults how to use computers in Spanish. I showed them how to search on Google, apply for jobs online, and use email. Soon, I expanded into job preparation—how to dress for an interview, how to answer questions confidently. That was the start of my business in vocational training, and I saw real results. People were finding jobs.
From the moment I decided to stay in this country, I set three rules for myself. First, I had to be all in—I couldn’t live in a state of indecision, torn between staying in the U.S. or returning to Venezuela. I realized that I had to commit to putting down roots. Second, I vowed never to break the laws of this country. I couldn’t afford to create problems for myself. And third, I had to keep progressing—not just for me, but for my three young daughters.
Around that time, the 2007–2008 economic crisis hit, and I saw an opportunity to help people who had lost their jobs. I met many former factory workers—people who had spent years in manufacturing but suddenly found themselves out of work with no idea how to start over. Since I had a background in technology, I decided to open a school to teach these adults how to use computers in Spanish. I showed them how to search on Google, apply for jobs online, and use email. Soon, I expanded into job preparation—how to dress for an interview, how to answer questions confidently. That was the start of my business in vocational training, and I saw real results. People were finding jobs.
From the moment I decided to stay in this country, I set three rules for myself. First, I had to be all in—I couldn’t live in a state of indecision, torn between staying in the U.S. or returning to Venezuela. I realized that I had to commit to putting down roots. Second, I vowed never to break the laws of this country. I couldn’t afford to create problems for myself. And third, I had to keep progressing—not just for me, but for my three young daughters.
If one doesn’t exist, why not create it?
One day in 2009 or 2010, I saw a newspaper headline that Rhode Island would have a deficit of 5,000 bilingual nurses over the next decade. I immediately thought, Who is training bilingual nurses here? No one. So I asked myself, Why not me? I started researching and developing a bilingual CNA (Certified Nursing Assistant) training program.
For the next five years, I dedicated myself to that project. I hired nurses, instructors, and a supervisor to ensure quality. The school ended up graduating more than 1,500 bilingual nurses, with over 85% of them securing jobs—many before even finishing the program. Our work was recognized by the White House, and we received the Minority Business of the Year award for New England.
Eventually, I sold my share in the school and started a new business: the Institute for Emerging Studies, which provides technology training for adults in Spanish. But given the ongoing demand for bilingual nurses, I’m planning to open another school soon.
I’ve always believed that if there’s a need—if there’s a problem that no one is solving—then why not step up and solve it? That mindset led me to another challenge. In 2016, while trying to open a new school, I ran into obstacles. I assumed there must be a business organization or chamber of commerce that could help me. But I discovered that Rhode Island’s Hispanic Chamber of Commerce had closed years earlier.
So I thought, If one doesn’t exist, why not create it?
For the next five years, I dedicated myself to that project. I hired nurses, instructors, and a supervisor to ensure quality. The school ended up graduating more than 1,500 bilingual nurses, with over 85% of them securing jobs—many before even finishing the program. Our work was recognized by the White House, and we received the Minority Business of the Year award for New England.
Eventually, I sold my share in the school and started a new business: the Institute for Emerging Studies, which provides technology training for adults in Spanish. But given the ongoing demand for bilingual nurses, I’m planning to open another school soon.
I’ve always believed that if there’s a need—if there’s a problem that no one is solving—then why not step up and solve it? That mindset led me to another challenge. In 2016, while trying to open a new school, I ran into obstacles. I assumed there must be a business organization or chamber of commerce that could help me. But I discovered that Rhode Island’s Hispanic Chamber of Commerce had closed years earlier.
So I thought, If one doesn’t exist, why not create it?
In 2016, while trying to open a new school, I ran into obstacles. I assumed there must be a business organization or chamber of commerce that could help me.
I knew enough English to get by. I understood how the system worked. I had good connections. And yet, I was still facing barriers. What about business owners who didn’t speak English? Those who never left the four walls of their stores? Those too afraid to deal with government agencies? If no one was going to help them, I would. With the support of Tomás Ávila, we founded the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce. It was a struggle, especially securing funding, but I was determined.
I started researching online—how chambers of commerce operate, how they are structured. I found Hispanic Chambers across the country and called them, introducing myself: My name is Óscar Mejía. I’m in Rhode Island. I just started a Chamber of Commerce, but I don’t know what to do next. They gave me advice—Do this, organize that, build a board. That guidance helped shape the Chamber, which now has nearly 1,000 registered members.
For most, the COVID-19 pandemic was a disaster. But for me, it was the greatest opportunity of my life. Before the pandemic, the Chamber was relatively small—around 70 members. Then, during the shutdowns, I started receiving frantic phone calls: What do I do? My husband is sick. We have no food. We’re going to lose our business.
I couldn’t just sit at home. I started making calls, building connections. Within two weeks, I was out in the streets helping people. I worked with Commerce RI and the Secretary of Commerce, securing sanitizers and masks. I set up sanitation stations at local businesses. That work introduced me to key decision-makers.
Then came financial relief—grants and loans for small businesses. But our community didn’t know how to access them. Everything was online, and many business owners didn’t know where to begin. That’s when we launched the Chamber’s technical assistance program, helping over 2,500 entrepreneurs apply for funding. By the end of 2021, we had 790 registered members. We hosted Facebook Live sessions with information from the Department of Health, tax experts, and government agencies. What started as crisis response laid the foundation for the Chamber’s future.
Family support has always been important to me. Personal progress leads to family progress. As a father and now a grandfather, I see things differently. With grandkids, you appreciate moments in a way you didn’t have time for with your own children. Their curiosity, their unexpected answers—it’s a joy.
Both of my daughters are adults now, and they’ve followed their passions. One inherited my entrepreneurial spirit—she owns The Healing Room in Pawtucket. My other daughter works in visual effects and film direction. She’s incredibly creative, blending technology with art.
You can’t go through life without love, especially when facing difficult moments. I’ve always tried to surround myself with people who inspire me—people who are better, smarter, more compassionate. When I was young, my role models weren’t musicians or celebrities. They were people who did good things, especially in technology.
And that’s what I hope to pass on—to seek out those who uplift you, who push you to be better. If I am who I am today, it’s because I have always learned from others and followed that path forward.
