Ballot initiatives
Wednesday evening, I was called to the 16th District in the Bronx to give a brief presentation on the work my Bureau does with regards to civil rights. The occasion was a session of the African Leadership Council organized by Council Member Vanessa Gibson. I arrived right on time, forgetting that it is West African tradition to actually begin an event at least 45 minutes after its advertised start time.
Once that mark had been reached, the small space began to fill with people in traditional garb as well as sufficiently Americanized ware, and I paid witness to the lived ideal of a small town hall. The newly appointed president of Bronx Community College, a coal-black Nigerian man, presented on the new initiatives at work designed to increase graduation rates and assist struggling students and those only able to work part-time with financial costs, among them fully subsidized metro cards. He spoke to much applause, and it was almost a wonder he was able to complete his speech amidst all the congratulations. After a brief interlude where members of the community raised their hands and spoke on their own initiatives, efforts to increase the opportunities for small businesses and ease their operations, and difficulties, the problem of overflowing trash in the neighborhood, I stood at the front of the room and greeted the community in English, French, and Arabic. Then I proceeded to speak, after which I handed out small pamphlets on areas in which the Attorney General's Office was involved, things like Employment Discrimination, Housing Discrimination, etc., as many if not all of those things implicate the immigrant population.
Then Council Member Gibson spoke.
Years prior, before law school even, I daydreamed about what the town halls in Newington were like. Excuses abounded for my non-attendance. I was away at school, my homework demanded my attention, I had to devote as much time as I could to my writing, or my aspirations were directed elsewhere. While I persist in regretting nothing that I've done or that has happened in my life, I come close to that pained blend of emotions when I think back to where I grew up and the ways in which I could have gotten more involved in its operation. Certain initiatives stand out, like the pushback against corporate colonization of a small mountain behind a number of our houses. In my mind, the worries and concerns brought up during those meetings are quotidian: traffic at a particular intersection, the introduction of a Starbucks into our community, funding for the retirement home across from the library. Maybe local sports teams are feted, high school championships won, and whatnot. Maybe someone brings brownies.
Behind Council Member Gibson was a table laden with cookies and bowls of fruit and canned sodas. In attendance were representatives from the state senator, as well. Community members all carried about them immense pride in their African heritage, even if they could only claim knowledge of their ancestral traditions to a limited degree. Filling the seats were small business owners, professors, folks who worked at the UN and similar organizations, and hearing their voices, they could have all been my aunties.
The Council Member spoke comprehensively of the issues concerning the community, and her breadth of knowledge and the specificity with which she addressed their concerns was astounding. It was watching brilliance in practice.
When people say that all politics is local, I imagine this is what that looks like.
It looks like folding chairs and someone bringing brownies.
Once that mark had been reached, the small space began to fill with people in traditional garb as well as sufficiently Americanized ware, and I paid witness to the lived ideal of a small town hall. The newly appointed president of Bronx Community College, a coal-black Nigerian man, presented on the new initiatives at work designed to increase graduation rates and assist struggling students and those only able to work part-time with financial costs, among them fully subsidized metro cards. He spoke to much applause, and it was almost a wonder he was able to complete his speech amidst all the congratulations. After a brief interlude where members of the community raised their hands and spoke on their own initiatives, efforts to increase the opportunities for small businesses and ease their operations, and difficulties, the problem of overflowing trash in the neighborhood, I stood at the front of the room and greeted the community in English, French, and Arabic. Then I proceeded to speak, after which I handed out small pamphlets on areas in which the Attorney General's Office was involved, things like Employment Discrimination, Housing Discrimination, etc., as many if not all of those things implicate the immigrant population.
Then Council Member Gibson spoke.
Years prior, before law school even, I daydreamed about what the town halls in Newington were like. Excuses abounded for my non-attendance. I was away at school, my homework demanded my attention, I had to devote as much time as I could to my writing, or my aspirations were directed elsewhere. While I persist in regretting nothing that I've done or that has happened in my life, I come close to that pained blend of emotions when I think back to where I grew up and the ways in which I could have gotten more involved in its operation. Certain initiatives stand out, like the pushback against corporate colonization of a small mountain behind a number of our houses. In my mind, the worries and concerns brought up during those meetings are quotidian: traffic at a particular intersection, the introduction of a Starbucks into our community, funding for the retirement home across from the library. Maybe local sports teams are feted, high school championships won, and whatnot. Maybe someone brings brownies.
Behind Council Member Gibson was a table laden with cookies and bowls of fruit and canned sodas. In attendance were representatives from the state senator, as well. Community members all carried about them immense pride in their African heritage, even if they could only claim knowledge of their ancestral traditions to a limited degree. Filling the seats were small business owners, professors, folks who worked at the UN and similar organizations, and hearing their voices, they could have all been my aunties.
The Council Member spoke comprehensively of the issues concerning the community, and her breadth of knowledge and the specificity with which she addressed their concerns was astounding. It was watching brilliance in practice.
When people say that all politics is local, I imagine this is what that looks like.
It looks like folding chairs and someone bringing brownies.