Power Station

In the final days before the most important election of our lifetime, we are consumed by thoughts about what comes next. There is the collective anxiety about defeating Donald Trump and how to achieve a peaceful transition of power. And there is the imperative, even with a new administration, to fully confront the deeply embedded structural racism that has disenfranchised people of color since our beginnings. This work is not for the faint of heart. And it will not be led by pundits, academics or editorial writers. In fact, it is already underway, led by nonprofits that expand on traditional models of service to build power and transform systems. Detroit Action, led by native son Branden Snyder, is one such model. It is active on all fronts: canvassing, organizing, connecting residents to resources and influencing state policy decisions. Detroit Action is leading in the aftermath of decades of disinvestment, redlining and white flight. Their door is always open.    

You may not envision the YWCA as fighting on the frontlines of racial and gender justice, but you should. For 162 years, the YWCA has advocated for women and children who are survivors of domestic and sexual violence. And it has lived its stated values. In 1946, the YWCA became the first fully racially integrated organization in the nation. 50 years ago, it adopted a mission statement as its beacon: Eliminating Racism, Empowering Women. Its network of 200 associations, rooted in cities, suburbs and rural areas across the nation may be the sole resource in a community. Others work with a robust cohort of organizations on the shared challenges of underinvested communities, from a lack of child-care to healthcare and jobs. And, as always, leadership matters. Alejandra Castillo, whose work and life are already an inspiration, leads the YWCA with a passion that not even COVID19, an economic recession and a national reckoning with racial injustice could undermine. Listen and you will believe in Alejandra and her te

Words matter. We rely on them every day to express our thoughts and connect with others. And when our intent is to use our words to move people, in policy and political campaigns, how we construct them to create winning messages, is profoundly important. It obliges us to do more than echo out the urgency we feel based in years of work on issues from housing to immigration to health care, or for a candidate whose election we see as crucial. What resonates for us may have a distinctly different and unintended impact on those we want to influence. This is where Anat Shenker-Osorio comes in, fortified with social science research and significant experience in testing messages. She walks us through what nonprofits and campaigns get wrong and, thankfully, provides guidance about how to do better. It starts with ordering. Leading with a message of shared values enables the persuadable middle to be open to hearing more and to seeing policy solutions as common sense. Anat’s podcast, Words to Win By, explores how sayin

How can a powerful organization deepen its impact? For the National Resources Defense Council, our planet’s protector and champion of clear air and water, it starts with looking inward. At a time of national reckoning with structural inequity, NRDC is reevaluating its own practices through a lens of race, equity and justice. As Angela Manso, National Outreach Director, explains, this is challenging and vital work. Communities of color are harmed at disproportionate rates by contamination, pollution and climate change. And that is why she is forging partnerships within the most deeply impacted communities. These relationships, with groups advocating for better housing, access to health care and against environmental degradation, are key to creating a next-level environmental movement. NRDC’s president, Gina McCarthy, who led the Environmental Protection Administration under President Obama, is committed to building an explicitly anti-racist organization. Angela, also an Obama appointee, is advancing the missio

Thirty days out from the 2020 election, America is grappling with the many hurdles before us to casting our vote and being counted in the most important election of our lifetime. COVID19 has made in-person voting possibly life-threatening and voting by mail is being manipulated by a president who is profoundly threatened by this democratic franchise. For many, however, barriers to voting go far deeper. Millions of returning citizens, Americans who have served time and come home, are now barred from the ballot box. In Florida, Desmond Meade, president of the Florida Rights Restoration Project, is building a movement for the restoration of voting rights. He achieved the near-impossible, organizing statewide support for re-enfranchisement, validated by Amendment 4, a statewide ballot initiative. Desmond leads with empathy and love and rejects partisanship and rancor. Desmond knows that this movement’s wins will be resisted, and this is a tension that he embraces. His story is a testament to second chances and to

If Americans learn any collective lesson in 2020, it should be that until we face our history of marginalizing whole populations, we will not be a true democracy. Social uprisings around the country demonstrate that racism is structural and is seared into our public systems. People with disabilities experience structural inequity also. They have been so vilified that until 1974, so-called “ugly laws” forced those perceived to be “maimed” to be removed from public view. It is moving to learn that the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990, landmark legislation, was modeled after the Civil Rights Act of 1964. The ADA bars discrimination against disabled people in employment, transportation and public accommodations. The current practice of institutionalizing disabled people compelled the Center for Disability Rights to advocate for new legislation, the Disability Integration Act. Dara Baldwin, National Policy Director of CDR is committed to liberating disabled people from institutions into safe environment wit

To see how deep the impacts of COVID19 and racial inequity go, take a look at Flushing, Queens. With a population that is 70% Asian, it is also New York City’s fourth most congested business district. It appeared, pre-pandemic, to be a bustling neighborhood of working people. In reality, incomes for many were so limited they relied on food pantries to feed their families. Many now have no incomes at all. The truth, as John Park, executive director of the MinKwon Center for Community Action explains, contradicts the widely held model minority myth, a construct that has persisted for generations. He points out that Asian Americans have the highest level of poverty within working age populations, of any major ethnic group in New York. And while the impacts of the pandemic have been cataclysmic, there is reason for hope and inspiration. Despite a loss of lives and jobs, the community is engaged and resilient. MinKwon is leading a campaign to overcome a waterfront development plan and young community members are t

It takes more than pundits and politicians to create a more just society. Change happens when those who have been hurt the most stand up to demand justice. And it takes nonprofits with the courage and infrastructure needed to leverage power. This is the formula embodied by Partnership for Southern Equity, an Atlanta-based nonprofit that is building an equity agenda for the American south. As PSE’s founder and Chief Equity Officer Nathaniel Smith sees it, the path to equity is a process, the next step in the civil rights movement that took root in Atlanta through the 50s and 60s. He leads a corps of organizers, researchers and communications experts in taking on the devastating impacts of systemic racism in health, housing, climate, energy and community development. All of PSE’s work is guided by a prism of equity and shared values. It is the heart and intentionality of PSE’s approach in Atlanta that establishes them as a blueprint for the region and beyond. There is much more to come from Nathaniel Smith.    

Did you know that the Lower Ninth Ward had the highest rate of homeownership in New Orleans, pre-Hurricane Katrina? And that the devastation of those homes and displacement of their African American owners was caused by breeches in levees that are still in disrepair 15 years later? Or that tens of thousands of those owners remain displaced from their own city? Unlike most cities grappling with a housing crisis, there are 19,000 vacant units in New Orleans. The fact that landlords have withheld them from the rental market is just one of the factors that compelled dozens of affordable housing developers, homeless and housing advocates, and community residents to create Housing NOLA. Their mission is crystal-clear: to produce a data-based plan for meeting affordable housing needs in New Orleans over a 10-year period. It takes an uncommon leader to publish a yearly report card on such a plan’s progress and failings. Andreanecia Morris is the exceptional leader that Housing NOLA deserves. From her expertise in hou

As we navigate extraordinary challenges, from COVID19 to the implosion of our economy, we can see which of us are truly essential workers. We rely on doctors, nurses, mail carriers and grocery store workers, but do we recognize those whose labor literally sustains us? Farmworkers, working 12-14 hours a day, often in unsafe conditions, harvest the strawberries, blueberries, lettuce and other crops that, if we are fortunate, grace our tables. Many are immigrants who have been targeted by a relentlessly hostile administration. And they are parents who want their children to thrive. As executive director of the National Migrant and Seasonal Head Start Association (NMSHSA), Cleofas Rodriguez is tasked with a responsibility that he embraces. NMSHSA connects families that move 3 times a year to harvest crops to providers of early childhood education. These teachers and administrators are often former farmworkers themselves who understand the needs of the community. As Cleo explains, we need to think about those whos

As the saying goes, when you need something done, ask a busy person. This is the case with Gilda Cobb-Hunter, who represents Orangeburg County in the South Carolina State Legislature. She also directs a nonprofit serving victims of family violence. And she is president of the National Black Caucus of State Legislatures, which creates community among policy makers of color. Now she is advocating for legislation that, if adopted across state legislatures, could transform policing entirely. It is what we need now, in the wake of a social uprising sparked by unbridled police violence against men and women of color. The bill, which is informed by diverse policy partners, including police officers, starts with a framework called Ethical Policing. It codifies standards that set expectations for police departments. And it creates standardized systems for tracking behavior. It ends the shifting of abusers from one precinct to another. And it includes young people, often the target of police violence, in a review proce

Food insecurity is our government’s somewhat clinical term for hunger, or in bureaucratese, a lack of access to the food needed for a full and active life. Hunger is an everyday reality for poor and working families in the nation’s capital and its surrounding suburbs, one of the wealthiest regions in the country. And in the shadows of COVID19 and a staggering loss of jobs and income, hunger is growing exponentially. Imagine what it takes for the Capital Area Food Bank to provide 30 million meals a year to 400,000 women, men and children who are food insecure. And then realize that these figures reflect pre-pandemic times. Radha Muthiah, CAFB’s President and CEO, manages the complexities of supply chains, delivery systems, corporate and nonprofit partners, and her personal connections to the people she serves. But her vision extends beyond the unprecedented challenge of the moment. She is working towards a new normal, which requires collaboration across issue area silos and an insistence on righting the wrongs

Eddy Morales has an amazing story to tell and he wants it to be your call to action. The last of 9 children and the first born in the United States to a single mother from Mexico, he faced hardship first hand. He was influenced by his mother’s fearlessness and compassion, values that guide him now. In college, he made the connection between his childhood and systemic injustices that oppress people of color. In his next chapter, he was recruited to Washington DC to lead the US Student Association, where he mobilized young people to exercise their collective power. And in successive roles at the Center for Community Change, Voto Latino and Democracy Alliance, Eddy honed his skills as a trainer, political organizer and adviser to foundations on investing in Latinx nonprofits. After the crushing election results of 2016, life took another turn when he returned to Gresham, Oregon. That is the chapter you will hear today. It is about the deliberative and rewarding process of building power, from a PAC to a slate of

It should not take a pandemic and an uprising spurred by police violence against Black men and women to generate a national reckoning with racism, but here we are. If we want this moment to spark transformation, we need to crack open the full body of evidence about how non-White people are perceived and treated in America. And we need organizations like the National Asian Pacific American Women’s Forum, that build power in communities made invisible by bias. Jennifer Wang, lawyer, strategist and one of the women at the helm of NAPAWF, is a power-builder. She recounts how stereotypes of privilege overshadow the lived experience of AAPI people, a non-monolithic community of over 50 ethnicities. And she explains why NAPAWF has taken on a singular mission, the reproductive rights of AAPI women and girls. Our conversation is particularly salient in a moment in which discrimination against AAPI women is rampant, from the White House to the streets. Jennifer shares what happened when her boss, Sung Yeon Choimorrow,

In this moment of national reckoning with racism, important truths are unfolding. For those who resist the reckoning, the truth starts with recognizing that since America’s founding, our leaders, from the White House to Congress, have passed laws to benefit them at the expense of African Americans and other people of color. By enacting segregationist housing policies, excluding Black veterans from the benefits of the GI Bill, and denying mortgage loans in communities of color, the nation’s racial wealth gap was created and persists today. Another truth is that nonprofits carry the weight of redressing these wrongs. And while their solutions have been impactful, in this moment, they are simply not enough. These truths compelled Solana Rice and Jeremie Greer, to take their advocacy for economic justice to the next level. They formed a new nonprofit, Liberation in a Generation, that uplifts the big, ambitious transformational policies that communities are demanding today. Solana talks to Power Station about buil

Ten years ago, a group of friends, young professionals of color, began to incubate ideas to improve the lives of low-income people in Los Angeles. As the children of immigrant parents who worked hard only to subsist on the economic margins, they knew that systemic barriers to opportunity had to be dismantled. From the criminalization of being undocumented to the lack of access to bank loans, the proverbial American Dream left their communities out. So, they launched a nonprofit, Inclusive Action, that centers its strategies on the aspirations of underpaid and under-appreciated working people. Leading this ambitious effort, with a team of savvy advocates, is Rudy Espinoza, the son of an industrious immigrant mother from Zacatecas, Mexico. Their campaign to legalize street vendors and provide financing through Community Development Financial Institution (CDFI) funding has toppled tired norms and changed lives. While COVID19 has brought new pain to the community, the story is far from over. No one can tell that

I like to think that I choose my words carefully on Power Station. I use terms like community organizing and movement building to reflect a theory of change and a process some organizations view as foundational to making policy and social change possible. But I realize that language that speaks to my own experience may ring hollow for others. Enter Mark Winston Griffith, who embraces the language and the hard, nuanced and unrelenting work of organizing and movement building in Central Brooklyn. He formed the Brooklyn Movement Center 10 years ago to reinvigorate what had become a calcified environment for change-making. And he committed to engaging a talented staff and community members in the work needed to dismantle systemic inequities, including policing, housing, food and the environment, and influencing the creation of new and more just systems. This is what community organizing and movement building really means. It is not easy to generate, sustain or fund but it is essential to the world we say we want

A conversation with Steve Choi begins with his upending of assumptions about which immigrants and refugees live in New York State and where. It provides a view into how the New York Immigration Coalition, the nonprofit he leads, mobilizes 200 member organizations to influence local and state policy making. And it evolves into the inevitable, the toll these tumultuous times are taking on immigrant communities. We associate immigrants with New York City, which remains a constant, but there are over 1 million immigrants residing outside of the City, from Long Island to Westchester to Rochester and Buffalo. And their national origins are so diverse that no single group dominates. The NYIC vigorously protects their legal rights and economic opportunities in a virulently anti-immigrant federal environment. And the needs are growing because immigrants are on the frontlines of service in restaurants, hospitals, and grocery stores during the COVID19 pandemic. While they are losing jobs and even their lives, immigrants

Nonprofits tackle what lies beneath the economic and social crisis that rocks our nation. They organize, litigate and advocate to undo discriminatory policies based on race, immigration status and sexual orientation. Increasingly, nonprofits, including The National LGBTQ Task Force, are using an intersectional prism to guide their advocacy. Intersectionality, a concept developed by scholar Kimberlee Crenshaw, demonstrates that our identities (socioeconomic, race and gender) intersect in ways that impact how we are viewed, understood and treated. This prism also reveals how privilege and marginalization operate. As Meghan Maury, Policy Director for The Task Force explains, battling discrimination is not enough. LGBTQ people are also over-represented in homeless shelters and the criminal justice and immigration systems. And the Task Force is active on all fronts. Valuing intersectionality is reflected in a staff comprised primarily by people of color, people with disabilities and with lived experiences of homel

How are young people processing the chaos of the current moment and how can we support them? We are all confronted by circumstances we did not foresee and cannot control. COVID19 has pummeled this nation, robbing low-wage workers of their jobs and far too many, of their lives. And the killing of George Floyd, a Black man, at the hands of police officers, catapulted us into protests that continue today. The sense of uncertainty is palpable. But we are adults and have at least some agency over our situations. For young people in communities color, the challenges are more complex. They are suddenly attending school online, confined to homes that are under stress and may lack access to Wi-Fi. Lauren Grimes is one adult who stepped up for young people long before these dual pandemics launched a national conversation about racial justice. A rising professional in the federal government, Lauren founded The Community Enrichment Project to spur youth civic engagement in Washington DC’s Wards 7 & 8. She is engaging