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The New Attorney General Must Make Racial Justice A Priority

The New Attorney General Must Make Racial Justice A Priority

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Over at RhReality Check, I wrote about how the next Attorney General of the United States Department of Justice must prioritize racial justice. Here’s an excerpt:

Publicly contextualizing the past and current role that racism plays in the experiences of communities of color should be the norm, not the exception, among policymakers and elected officials. The new attorney general will undoubtedly continue to use litigation, investigations, and agency coordination under the Civil Rights Division’s leadership to enforce individual rights under anti-discrimination laws. But he or she should also prioritize tackling the racial bias that has entrenched itself in the bedrock of institutions of power in our country.

Read the rest of the piece here.

 

 

 

13 Years After 9/11: A Reflection on Resilience

13 Years After 9/11: A Reflection on Resilience

Here’s a piece I wrote marking the 13th anniversary of September 11th and reflecting on the impact of the post 9/11 climate on South Asian, Arab, Muslim and Sikh communities. Incidentally, the picture that appears on this blog is from September 18, 2001 at a gathering of peace at the Japanese American Memorial in Washington, DC:

I came of age in post 9/11 America like many other people around the United States. On September 11, 2001, I was working as a lawyer in the Civil Rights Division at the U.S. Department of Justice, and living close enough to the Pentagon that the smoke burning from the building was visible from my apartment balcony in Arlington, Virginia for days. It’s safe to say that I felt, as so many did around the nation, that everything changed on September 11, 2001.

For me, the months that followed were a call to action. Like others of South Asian, Arab, Muslim and Sikh backgrounds, the post 9/11 climate in the United States motivated me to become deeply involved in addressing bias, profiling and hate violence through a racial and immigrant justice lens. Today, on the 13th anniversary of 9/11, I join many around the country to reflect upon my memories of that day, to think of those who lost loved ones, and to take stock of life in post 9/11 America.

Please head over to Race Files for the rest of the piece and feel free to comment and share feedback there or here.

Ferguson: The Movement Continues

Ferguson: The Movement Continues

About a month ago, an 18-year old black youth named Michael Brown was shot dead in Ferguson, Missouri. For weeks afterward, the country focused on Ferguson, where protestors converged to demand justice for Brown’s murder by a white police officer by the name of Darren Wilson. At night, local police began to take alarming measures to “protect public safety” which included the use of military hardware, tanks, and teargas. Like so many people around the country, I went through feelings of anger and horror about what was happening in Ferguson.

As a result of the courageous efforts of Ferguson residents day after day, a few patterns became clear. That police violence against communities of color, particularly African Americans, has to stop. That segregation of schools, neighborhoods and cities in places like St. Louis has far-reaching ramifications on access, benefits and representation. That political power has to be galvanized so that elected officials look like the communities they represent. That the practice of providing local law enforcement with surplus military hardware has dangerous consequences. And more.

How can we keep Ferguson and what it represents on our minds as time goes on? Below are some steps including resources that can be used particularly by South Asian and Asian American communities to generate discussions and conversations. If you have others to share, please do so in the comments and I’ll continue to update this list.

First Step: If You Can, Please Give

Second Step: Stay Informed.

Twitter continues to be an useful way to be updated about what’s happening in Ferguson. Using the hashtag #Ferguson, you can pull up articles and video. This week, the Ferguson City Council held a meeting where residents made their concerns clear. Read more here. Follow people like @antoniofrench, @Nettaaaaaaaa, and @tefpoe.

Dr. Martha Chatelain from Georgetown University started a crowdsourced effort on Twitter to gather resources for educators and parents to talk to their children about Ferguson. You can find these resources on Twitter with the hashtag #Ferguson Syllabus. Here’s an article by Dr. Chatelain that contains a snapshot of these resources.

Third Step: Start Conversations.

Each of us can share information and resources, as well as start conversations on our college campuses and places of worship, with community groups and our own families and friends. These conversations can be about police brutality and racial profiling, the importance of multi-racial solidarity, anti-black racism, and more. Here are some resources framed through the South Asian/Asian American lens.

  • Start the conversation within South Asian communities to show solidarity and to unpack anti-black racism. Jaya Sundaresh’s piece at The Aerogram provides reasons for why: http://theaerogram.com/south-asians-ferguson-showing-solidarity/
  • Ferguson matters to Asian Americans: Soya Jung’s piece at RaceFiles.com is a must-read to understand the historical reasons for black/Asian solidarity: http://www.racefiles.com/2014/08/20/why-ferguson-matters-to-asian-americans/
  • Ferguson is our fight too: I wrote a piece over at The Nation.com about why Latinos, Arab Americans and Asian Americans have a stake in the issues raised in Ferguson. http://www.thenation.com/article/181331/why-all-communities-color-must-demand-end-police-brutality
  • Black vs. Brown: Many of the small shops and convenience stores in Ferguson are owned by South Asian and Arab American shopowners. They have stood in solidarity with African American communities. Read Sandip Roy’s piece that looks at what could have happened, but didn’t in Ferguson: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sandip-roy/an-unlikely-sliver-of-hop_b_5721138.html

Fourth Step; Take Action.

Local residents have a number of demands that folks around the country can amplify and support. Follow the work of groups like the Organization of Black States, Color of Change and the NAACP-LDF to learn how you can plug in. Groups like South Asian Americans Leading Together, Desis Rising Up and Moving and Muslims for Ferguson are also connecting with local organizers in Ferguson and providing information to communities around the country.  On Tuesday evenings, local groups in Ferguson hold conference calls to update people around the country about next steps; to get call-in information, please drop me a note.

Remembering Oak Creek, Recommitting to End Hate Violence

Remembering Oak Creek, Recommitting to End Hate Violence

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Today (August 5, 2014) marks the second anniversary of the tragedy in Oak Creek, Wisconsin which claimed the lives of six and wounded many when a gunman with ties to white supremacist organizations terrorized the Sikh Temple of Wisconsin. I’ve written a post over at NBCAsianAmerica with reflections and ideas for interventions to address, and ultimately, prevent hate violence.

Like communities in Aurora and Newtown, also ravaged by gun violence in 2012, the people of Oak Creek have been in a cycle of grieving and rebuilding over the past two years. But what sets this community apart is the added element of racial targeting that was at play there: a vicious combination of racial anxiety and post-9/11 animus that requires an additional and unique set of responses and interventions from all of us. You can find the rest of the article here.

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Words of support from around the country at two-year anniversary events in Oak Creek, Wisconsin.

Yes, The Non-Profit Sector Needs More Women of Color Leaders. But It Has To Change.

Yes, The Non-Profit Sector Needs More Women of Color Leaders. But It Has To Change.

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Ironically, in my post-Executive Director life, it seems that what I end up talking most about is being an Executive Director. Since I left my role as Executive Director of SAALT almost five months ago, I have been talking with women of color who are either transitioning out of their roles as directors or seeking to enter roles of leadership at non-profits. Not surprisingly, there are common themes that always come up in these conversations: anxiety about the level of burn-out associated with being an Executive Director of a small, under-resourced organization (read: budgets of less than a million dollars and less than six staff members); the worry about balancing a life that includes non-work responsibilities, ranging from parenting to caring for oneself or family members; and the ability to recognize when it’s time to move on.

We need women of color to aspire to leadership positions in community-based non-profit organizations, especially those that serve emerging and growing communities of color struggling with class and race inequities in our country. Yet, the culture, expectations, and benefits within the non-profit sector often do not make it possible for women of color leaders to sustain themselves. Our non-profit ecosystem – from board members to philanthropy to staff to volunteers – must identify and support different leadership models, support systems, and workplace culture to ensure that women of color leaders can meaningfully commit themselves to the social change values that brought them to their work in the first place. Here are three suggestions on how we can move the conversation forward (and while this piece is focused specifically on Executive Directors, it could also apply to all staff at non-profit organizations who are committed to long-term engagement in the movement).

Set Up Women of Color Non-Profit Leaders for Success

There seems to be a common understanding, a narrative we have silently agreed to, about leadership in the non-profit sector: the hours are demanding; the work is emotionally taxing; and you must give your blood, sweat and tears to the movement, to the issues, to the community.  As a result, Executive Directors are usually an organization’s thought leader, fundraiser, spokesperson, budget analyst, decision-maker, and human resources specialist, all in one. It’s not surprising then that there is as much turnover among Executive Directors today. In 2011, the Meyer Foundation and Compass Point released a report based on a survey of 3,000 executive directors. The report found that two-thirds of those surveyed planned to leave their jobs within five years. It’s a grueling role, and one that takes a toll on many, especially women of color.

But, what would happen if we changed the job description for Executive Directors? Most Executive Directors take on these roles because we feel passionately about issues, communities, and values. In time, those passions become eroded, especially with the responsibilities of staff supervision, budget reviews, board management, and funder proposals. In order to free up an Executive Director to be an idea generator and visionary, we need to ensure that they have the time and space to do so. Ask any Executive Director of a small community-based non-profit about her wish list and she will likely say: an administrative assistant, a resource development manager, a deputy director, and a leadership coach. The titles might be different based on the organization, but the roles that Executive Directors need support around are usually fundraising, staff management, scheduling, board support, and a mentor to help guide their leadership challenges. These are positions usually reserved for larger organizations, but smaller ones are locked into an endless cycle that prevents them from getting to scale, precisely because the Executive Director is playing too many roles. If we want women of color leaders to succeed in running community-based non-profits, then we need to set them up to do so with appropriate support systems.

Explore Different Leadership Structures and Opportunities

The non-profit sector provides a range of leadership training opportunities, especially for directors of color. How can these important experiences be strengthened with deeper investment in the leadership of women of color through sabbaticals, alternative work arrangements, and leadership models?

Is it possible to sustain a co-director model where both individuals have discrete roles and responsibilities? Or to provide Executive Directors and long-time staff the possibility of taking paid work sabbaticals? Many small community-based non-profits reject outright the prospect of different leadership structures and opportunities not because of a lack of desire to try them, but due to funding and resource constraints. Giving smaller non-profits the opportunity to experiment with these models, as the Asian Law Caucus did recently, and setting up more Windcall-type sabbatical models could make a meaningful difference for many organizations.

More than An Executive Director

While it seems that being an Executive Director is a 24-7 job, we all know that there are a range of other roles that people play in their personal lives. In my own case, becoming a mother five years into my Executive Director tenure brought a range of issues – from flexible work arrangements to parental leave policies – into clearer perspective. Even though SAALT had grown to a larger staff and budget at the time and had generous workplace policies, I was unsure as to how I would be able to sustain the same pace I had become accustomed to working (and soon realized that I couldn’t). For me, it was hard to keep up with conference calls at nine pm (especially with a little one who is insistent about “Lights on! No sleep!”), travel to conferences and conventions (“Mommy – put down your luggage”), or even attend informal networking events. Social change organizations can, and should, support staff through generous employment policies, flexible work arrangements, and models of self-care to maximize longer-term commitments to the work that they love.

Strong and healthy community-based organizations are at the heart of our social change movements. It’s time to create a different set of cultural expectations, workplace models,  and support systems for women of color who will lead the way.

Are the Indian Elections a Wake-Up Call for Indian Americans?

Are the Indian Elections a Wake-Up Call for Indian Americans?

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This morning, I woke up to a range of reactions from friends about the news that the Indian people have elected Narendra Modi as Prime Minister of India and the Bharatiya Janati Party (BJP) to a majority of seats in the Indian Parliament. Should the Indian election results be a wake-up call for those of us of Indian descent living in the United States?

As the new government in India is formed and starts to govern, it will be important for Indian Americans to be vigilant and prepared as well. Historically, Indian Americans have focused their advocacy around India on issues of foreign policy, immigration, and trade. Slowly, this tide has been shifting with Indian Americans becoming more vocal and engaged on issues such as the treatment of religious minorities in India, migrant workers trafficked from India, domestic workers being hired by Indian government officials in the US, and rights of LGBT communities in India.

Now, the elections in India give us another opportunity to be ready to raise our voices – and with an eye towards values and issues of religious pluralism, social justice and equality. This is particularly important in light of concerns that the new Indian leadership could divide the country through a brand of governance that disregards equality along faith, gender, sex, caste and class lines. These concerns are rooted in the legacy of Modi’s own leadership in the state of Gujarat, specifically with regard to the 2002 riots there that targeted and displaced Muslims, and was a primary reason for being denied a visa to visit the U.S., as well as the BJP’s own principles, which many have criticized as advocating Hindutva, or Hindu nationalism at the expense of religious minorities. In fact, just last month, at a hearing by the Tom Lantos Human Rights Commission on The Plight of Religious Minorities in India, leadership from the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom testified that a BJP victory could “be detrimental to religious freedom” in India.

Given this context, and given our own experiences as immigrants and people of color in a post 9/11 environment in the United States, here are three ways in which Indian Americans and other South Asians can be a conscious voice around issues of justice and equality.

  • Monitor and call out xenophobic and divisive remarks and policies that alienate or demonize communities based on their faith, caste, or political affiliation.

South Asians in the U.S. have faced the impact of rhetoric and policies that seek to divide people based on their religious faith, immigration status, or national origin. Since 9/11, xenophobic and anti-Muslim rhetoric in the United States has helped to sanction racial and religious profiling, surveillance, strict immigration policies, and distrust between communities and law enforcement. Hate violence against Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims has also been on the rise in the United States since 9/11. Given our own experiences in the United States in the decade following the 9/11 attacks, Indian Americans have a unique role – and responsibility – to play in speaking out against rhetoric and policy that alienates people based on their faith, caste, or political affiliation here at home, and in our country of origin.

  • Engage around these issues in public forums, conversations with friends and family, campus discussions and media outlets, with an emphasis on values of pluralism, equality and justice. I know from personal experience that there are many differences of opinion within our own families around the rise of the BJP and the victory of Modi. Informing and educating ourselves, and sharing views and ideas will help us reinforce our values of pluralism and justice, and build stronger coalitions to withstand attacks on those ideals here in the US, or in India.

As we continue to process the impact of the Indian elections, here’s a poem by Rabindranath Tagore that has always resonated with me, first as a child growing up in India and then as an activist making my home here in the U.S.:

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

Please add your own ideas below on how Indian Americans can engage with the Indian elections and make our voices heard.

Disclaimer: This post reflects only my personal views, and not of any organizations with which I am affiliated.

Our Streets, Our Stories

Our Streets, Our Stories

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Take a walk towards 204th Street and 35th Avenue in Bayside, Queens, and you might notice a street by the name of Salman Hamdani Way.

Streets in America often get named after people whose stories need to be remembered. I have no doubt that the naming of Salman Hamdani Way this week in Queens was the result of consistent and tenacious advocacy by Salman’s mother, Talat Hamdani. I first met Talat in March 2011 when she spoke at the National South Asian Summit hosted by South Asian Americans Leading Together (SAALT). We had asked our speakers to reflect on the ten-year anniversary of the September 11th tragedy, which was to be commemorated later that year. Talat paid a moving tribute to her son, Salman, a Pakistani American who was trained as an EMT and NYPD cadet. Salman had rushed into the Twin Towers on September 11th to be one of the first responders. Salman lost his life that day.

As his family struggled to endure the pain of losing Salman, they had to simultaneously deal with allegations that Salman was somehow linked to the 9/11 attackers. As Talat recounted the story, each of us was touched in some way. A new mother at the time myself, I couldn’t imagine the pain that Talat had endured. At the same time, I remember feeling angry and frustrated by the injustice that Salman and his family faced.

Talat channeled her anger and pain towards publicly remembering Salman’s legacy, and what it means in a post 9/11 America. As time passed, Salman’s name was cleared and he received praise and recognition from New York City leaders, as well as Rep. Keith Ellison, who memorialized Salman in a moving speech during the infamous King hearings on Muslim radicalization. Talat has continued her quest to have Salman’s heroism publicly acknowledged – including at the 9/11 Memorial where his name is not located with the other first responders – and to eliminate the ongoing assumptions of disloyalty weighed against Muslims and those perceived to be Muslim, as they were against her son.

This week, part of Talat’s quest has been achieved. A street in Queens, on a block where Salman grew up, now bears her son’s name, and hopefully, it will prompt questions from curious children and passers by, seeking to understand who Salman Hamdani was, and what his story means to all of us.

salmanhamdaniway

Talat Hamdani with elected leaders at the naming of Salman Hamdani Way on Monday, April 28, 2014 (Picture courtesy of Umair Khan)

Salman represents the often forgotten stories and experiences of many South Asians, Arab Americans, Sikhs and Muslims over the past 13 years. As we build national narratives around the post 9/11 experience, the stories of South Asians, Arab Americans, Sikhs and Muslims – communities affected by targeting and xenophobia in the name of national security – are often underrepresented or forgotten. What happened to the “disappeared” – the men detained and deported off streets and out of their homes in the weeks after 9/11? What happened to the families devastated by the special registration policy that required boys and men over the age of 16 from South Asian and Middle Eastern countries to report to immigration authorities?

When our stories are told, they are sometimes misrepresented, as seen in the faith-based and community criticisms over the depiction of Islam in the National September 11th Memorial Museum opening in May or in the xenophobic rhetoric of some of our political leaders.

Storytelling, documentation, organizing and advocacy grounded in the struggles as well as in the moments of resistance and leadership within our communities can give us a more complete sense of how we have come together – and how we have unraveled – in post 9/11 America. And for that, we need the voices of organizations like the Center for Constitutional Rights that continues to litigate on behalf of detained South Asian and Arab men, of filmmakers like Theresa Thanjan who captured the plight of families devastated by special registration, of groups like Desis Rising Up and Moving which organizes family members of detainees; of national advocacy groups like SAALT, NNAAC and others who move our communities’ experiences into policy and media spaces; and of grassroots efforts like the Bay Area Walking History Tour, which reveals a radical history of South Asians organizing and resisting on the streets of Berkeley, including after 9/11.

And we are indebted to mothers like Talat Hamdani whose love for her son and her pursuit of justice inspires each of us to reach towards her vision of a better America.

The Next 50 Years: Time for Culture Change on Racial Justice

The Next 50 Years: Time for Culture Change on Racial Justice

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This week, four U.S. presidents and thought leaders are convening at the Civil Rights Summit in Austin, Texas to mark the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 by President Lyndon B. Johnson. The agenda includes discussions around immigration, criminal justice, voting rights and economic inequality from the standpoint of women, people of color, the disabled, and LGBTQ communities. While there has been much progress in addressing civil rights violations in employment and housing contexts over the past 50 years, there have also been regressions (for example, with voting rights) as well as new civil rights frontiers that have emerged. As we look ahead to the next 50 years, we need to develop a racial equity framework that reflects the dynamics taking shape in our country today.

Today’s America looks vastly different from the one that ushered in the 1964 Civil Rights Act. It’s evident that our schools, workforces and neighborhoods are becoming increasingly diverse as America transforms into becoming a majority-minority country by 2040. Yet these demographic changes may not mean much to uplift communities of color without updated anti-discrimination laws, honest public dialogues about the impact of both systemic racial disparities and individual implicit biases, and solidarity building between communities of color. Here are a few starting points to guide the development of a framework that reflects America’s new racial landscape:

From Legal Change to Culture Change. Anti-discrimination laws and policies, such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964, fundamentally changed the legal responsibilities of employers, educational institutions, and governmental agencies. But a culture change in the way we treat and perceive one another also needs to happen in order to combat racism effectively. As our country’s demographics shift, the level of racial anxiety is also rising. We will likely hear false and divisive narratives such as “We are losing the true America” to “We no longer need to address racial inequity because we are truly post-racial and color-blind.” In order to shift these narratives, we need to change the ways in which communities of color are perceived in society. Our political leaders, including the four Presidents speaking at the Civil Rights Summit this week, can set the tone for such a culture change to occur. They can raise our level of civil and political discourse to one that respects communities of color, and sets expectations about how we treat each other.

Race-Plus, Not Just Race-Only. Traditional race-only approaches and solutions to racism do not reflect the complex ways in which communities of color experience inequity and discrimination. In the post 9/11 environment, for example, Sikhs and Muslims experience profiling because of their national origin and religious status – in addition to race. LGBT individuals of color face discrimination at the workplace because of their race and sexual orientation. Working class women of color encounter greater disadvantages due to their gender, class, and race. Our laws and policies must address the multidimensional ways in which discrimination occurs.

Beyond Diversity to Equity.  Cultural competency trainings and diversity plans have been staples in workplaces and schools for decades now. While these strategies help us better understand each other, they cannot by themselves address systemic racial disparities that exist. We must also confront the root causes of racial disparities, whether they occur at workplaces or whether they keep people of color from accessing health care, education, or jobs. Using racial equity assessments is one strategy to help prevent institutional racism and address disparities.

Solidarity Across Communities of Color. For decades, communities of color have been focused on building our own houses in order to confront the impact of systemic racism. But, we have more in common than we might believe. Successful multi-racial organizing efforts in the taxi driver, restaurant, and domestic worker industries have shown us that we must come together across racial lines in order to secure basic rights for all. In a majority-minority America, preserving racial privilege and constructing racial hierarchies will be detrimental to our ability to build power.

The Civil Rights Summit in Austin this week gives us an opportunity to learn from the past 50 years – and to imagine how racial justice in our country could look and feel, in the next 50 years to come.

Picture Credits: Picture 1, “March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom,” August 1963,Photograph by Abbie Rowe, National Park Service Photograph. Picture 2, Taxi Fares in New York to Rise by 17%, http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/07/12/taxi-fares-in-new-york-to-rise-by-17/

 

Dear Public Interest Lawyers: You Can Defend, but Not Enforce, Civil Rights

Dear Public Interest Lawyers: You Can Defend, but Not Enforce, Civil Rights

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When I was starting my legal career in Washington DC, becoming a lawyer at the Civil Rights Division of the US Department of Justice appealed to me for many reasons, including the fact that the head of the Division at the time was an Asian American lawyer.  The hard-won appointment of Bill Lann Lee, who had a distinguished public interest career, to lead the Division held significance for me and other Asian American civil rights lawyers.  It meant that we too could commit our lives to civil rights work both within and outside of government service, and that we could aspire to perhaps one day take on public leadership positions as Mr. Lee had.

Unfortunately, the efforts by the US Senate this week to block the confirmation of Debo Adegbile – who was poised to become the next head of the Civil Rights Division – sends an entirely different message to young lawyers, especially lawyers of color who choose to dedicate a part of our legal career to non-profit organizations serving minority communities.

Much has already been said and written about Mr. Adegbile. That he is highly qualified for the position he was appointed by President Obama to hold. That he has support from the leading civil rights organizations in our country to become the next Assistant Attorney General for the Civil Rights Division. That Mr. Adegbile faced opposition from law enforcement for his participation in legal briefs filed in an appeal on behalf of Mumia Abu-Jamal (who was convicted of allegedly killing a Philadelphia police officer in 1981) during his tenure at the NAACP LDF. That similar questions never arose during the confirmation process of John Roberts (who had also represented a prisoner during his legal tenure) to the US Supreme Court, as Senator Tom Harkin (D-IA) persuasively points out in his remarks (watch here).  That both Republican and Democratic Senators blocked Mr. Adegbile’s confirmation.

The Senate action this week prompts many conclusions about how Mr. Adegbile’s race and the political pressures that many Senators succumbed to prevented his confirmation from going forward as it should have.  But it also presents a slippery slope for public interest lawyers. Will lawyers be more reluctant to join the ranks of public interest and advocacy organizations dedicated to protecting the rights of people of color and immigrants? Will South Asian, Muslim or Arab American lawyers, for example, who represent community members accused wrongly of terrorist activities, or who challenge surveillance activities of governmental agencies, be seen as “terrorist sympathizers” and “anti-American”?

Given the treatment that many civil rights lawyers have received when they aspire to high positions in government service, as detailed by NAACP LDF President Sherillyn Ifill, is it next to impossible to be both a civil rights defender and a civil rights enforcer? What about pro bono representation or being on the Board of Directors of a non-profit that takes positions that are seen as “political”? As Attorney General Holder remarked in response to the Senate vote this week: It is a very dangerous precedent to set for the legal profession when individual lawyers can have their otherwise sterling qualifications denigrated based solely on the clients that their organizations represent.”

Mr. Adegbile deserves another chance to have his nomination considered in the Senate (sign a petition from Color of Change here). Lawyers and bar associations should raise concerns about the messages being sent to our profession by the Senate’s action this week. We need to express our discontent with Senators who voted against Mr. Adegbile’s confirmation.  Let’s send a different message to the civil rights defenders of today and tomorrow.

Disclosure: I worked for the Civil Rights Division at the US Department of Justice between 1998 and 2000.

The Courage to Think Radically and Be Inconvenient

The Courage to Think Radically and Be Inconvenient

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It’s been about a month since I asked these questions in an earlier post:

Where are we [the field of South Asian, Arab, Muslim, and Sikh leaders and organizations working in a post 9/11 environment] now, nearly 15 years after the national crisis (9/11) that defined and shaped many of our organizational strategic plans and visions? How do we ensure that institution building does not happen at the expense of community building?

I’ve been reflecting on these questions over the past few weeks. And as I do so, I keep returning to remarks I heard from artist and activist, Harry Belafonte, last summer when he spoke to a small group of non-profit leaders. Mr. Belafonte urged us to find our creativity, our commitment to engage in radical thinking, and our connections to struggle – to be inconvenient, as he put it.

What would the field of South Asian, Arab, Muslim and Sikh groups and even the broader immigrant and racial justice sector look like if we followed Mr. Belafonte’s advice?

After all, being inconvenient when necessary is part of the history and culture of organizing that began to take shape in the years before and after the 9/11 moment in the broader South Asian community (and it’s even the case if we look back to the resistance efforts of the early South Asian immigrants in California and Washington who challenged racist naturalization laws and Asian Exclusion Leagues, or to working class taxi drivers in NYC in the 90s).  On the East Coast, many of us participated in the Desis Organizing convening in New York City in July of 2001, just months before 9/11, where we identified strategies to build community power. After 9/11, groups such as Desis Rising Up and Moving, the National Network on Arab American Communities, Muslim Advocates, the Sikh Coalition, SAALT and others started or reoriented themselves because of their deep connections with community members being targeted.

The individual and organizational leadership catalyzed by the post 9/11 backlash represents, in some small manner, acts of defiance and moments of resistance.  We could have stood by the sidelines and waited for the crisis moment to pass. We could have asked our allies in the racial justice world to speak for us and advocate on our behalf.  We could have waited for others to lead.

Instead, we made ourselves inconvenient, often without any funding, legitimacy, or branding. We did so in many different ways: organizing rallies outside detention facilities, developing documentaries revealing the impact of hate violence and deportation, listening to and understanding the stories of community members whose lives were being torn apart, gaining access to policy-making tables in Congress and federal agencies so that those stories could be told and heard, convening discussions on discrimination, profiling, and surveillance at college campuses and places of worship, and disrupting the “othering” narratives about our communities in the media.

It hasn’t been an easy road by any means, and we still have a long journey ahead of us. The path has been messy and exhausting at times, uncertain and scary at others. But it has been a transformative process, and one that will surely evolve and shift in the years to come.

DRUM YP Banner, Jksn Hts march 06

Photo Credit: Desis Rising Up and Moving (DRUM)

How can we infuse our own organizations, the field we work in, and even the entire non-profit sector with the sort of radical thinking that catalyzed and mobilized our creation and growth in the first place?  Below are some ideas, framed as questions, to guide this thinking.

  • How can we be more connected with our own communities and their everyday struggles, which extend well beyond the traditional immigrant gateway cities and the issues of 9/11?
  • How can we engage our communities and our work through an intersectional lens that reflects the realities of many community members who might be Sikh and undocumented, South Asian and working class, Hindu and gay, or Muslim and multi-racial?
  • How can we ensure that our organizations aren’t being managed and influenced solely by board members, staff, and volunteers who are professional activists, without the ideas and involvement of the constituencies whom we say that we represent?
  • How do we restructure our non-profit leadership to avoid burnout and complacency? How can we take the pressure off Executive Directors (many of them founders or the first directors) to be thought leaders, chief fundraisers and spokespersons, the-buck-stops-with-me-decisionmakers, and human resources specialists, all in one?
  • How do we build a new pipeline of leaders in our communities – and then, get out of the way and make room for them to lead?
  • How do we broaden our understanding of political power, and convey that it goes well beyond supporting people from our communities running for electoral office?
  • How can our friends outside the non-profit sector step up to help?  How can the Silicon Valley entrepreneurs, the law firm partners, and the medical professionals who also were affected and shaped by the post 9/11 world – and presumably understand what it means to be “othered” – support our work? How can we work hand in hand with artists and writers who uniquely harness and reflect the voices of community dreams?
  • How do we adopt the struggles of other communities in a consistent way? How can our allies show support for our struggles meaningfully by valuing our community knowledge and issue expertise?
  • How can the entire system that supports non-profits – foundations and donors, networks and leadership experts – provide the resources, space, and time we need to have these critical conversations and change the usual way of doing things?
  • How can the non-profit ecosystem critique itself productively to address the increasing corporatization, the growth of professional activism, the influence of donors and foundations, and the emphasis on short-term outcomes for work that is about movement-building and long-term social and structural change?

Yes, these are hard questions, and it’s even harder to go through the process of answering them. I know that while I tried to engage with some of these questions during my tenure as Executive Director at SAALT, that I barely scratched the surface due to a lack of time and capacity, and as a result of being stuck in a cycle of reacting, positioning, and responding. But, when I could think about these questions – and especially do so with colleagues and community members – I know that I felt more anchored and grounded.

As many of the post 9/11 organizations turn 13 years old this year (and as many post 9/11 community leaders start another year’s worth of their life-work), perhaps we can transform our field if we think about these questions together, identify a process that we can return to time and again, find community in one another — and reconnect with our own history of inconvenient resistance.

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