Ellie and I stood side-by-side on the outer edge of a basketball court in at the Moore Homestead Playground- a sprawling mass of children running, adults chatting on shade-covered benches, and now, a huge spiral of men and women (some dressed casually, some sporting traditional Nepali or Tibetan garb) dancing the Gorshey. Our program director took us all to this park to experience what community organizing felt like, and the power of the synchronized, graceful movements of all the individuals before us, dancing to keep their customs alive thousands of miles from their homeland, came over me in waves. It was so beautifully rhythmic that Ellie and I did not want to step in and ruin their mojo. But alas, we were here to give the Gorshey a good ol’ college try, and despite accidentally slapping many of the more coordinated dancers, the community welcomed us with smiles and nods of appreciation as we began awkwardly goose-stepping beside them. Soon enough, it was magic. We went around in circle after circle, and just as soon as we were beginning to get the hang of one dance, the DJ would start another and we would start our choreography journey from scratch again. There were more than 20 different songs played that evening, and the people around us had the different dances for every single one memorized. It was awesome to watch our dancing neighbors effortlessly show off their seemingly endless repertoire.
Before we knew it, 2 hours had passed, and two of our program coordinator Yeshe’s nephews – Pema and Lordy- presented us all with Khatas- simple scarves that are traditionally gifted in Tibet and Nepal to signify the return, departure, accomplishments, marraiges, birthdays, etc. of friends and family. Then myself and a few others danced a little more, and when it finally came time to leave Yeshe and her nephews ushered our small group close. “Do you guys want to go out to a Nepali bar later?” Lordy asked. The answer was an excited and resounding YES, especially after we heard that we could get discounted drinks and legal age would not be examined with enough attention to prevent fun. So we excitedly headed for the metro to go back and get ready for a late night in the city, but not before we passed by a restaurant where even more of Yeshe’s family was gathered for a thank-you-dinner in the wake of her cousin’s recent wedding. Initially, our group was going to part with Yeshe to enjoy her family dinner and then reunite with her at the club later in the evening, but almost as soon as Yeshe walked into the restaurant she was sent back out by her mom to invite us inside. We couldn’t believe what was happening! We were ushered in with smiles and nods and immediately instructed to fill up plates with heavenly-smelling Nepali food. Plastic cups filled with rice wine appeared out of nowhere, and soon enough we were smiling, laughing, and eating alongside Yeshe’s extended family. It was magic. They were very impressed that we had attempted the Gorshey, and we excitedly informed them that we would be leaving for Nepal in a mere week!
After some socializing we finally made it back to our hotel, where we got ready to party Nepali-style. Those who were down for the adventure gathered on the hotel roof deck for beverages and drinking games such as “Cheers to the Governor” (our Russian student advised that we call it “Cheers to Kamala” instead, which we happily did.) When it came time to boogy, we hit the subway once more and arrived at Uptop, the Nepali bar in question. The techno-latin-afro-bollywood-early-2000s-music pounded in the neon-lit space, and our collective energy soared. We danced, and danced, and danced. Then we drank, and danced, and drank whilst dancing- all under the watchful and supremely cool-mom eye of Yeshe. We met the regulars and some of Yeshe’s friends, all of whom gave us wise advice about what to expect in Nepal (my favorite insight was “Come back to Uptop every night between now and when you leave so that you are culturally prepared for Nepal…”). As the night pounded on with the bass in our ears, time began to feel less and less real… that is, until the club closed. Yep, it was 5 am and we were still passing around bottles on the dance floor with Yeshe… time to go home. My lovely friend Amaya ensured that I ate and drank something before bed, and the next morning I woke up at noon to one of the worst hangovers of my life. But 12 hours of pain and misery were totally worth it for one of the best nights of my life, and by 5:30 pm I was starting to feel human again… small potatoes.
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Tuesday was *full* of movement. I wish that I could say that I’d gotten used to our packed days, often beginning at 9 am and concluding around 5 or 6- but I had not. I was TIRED by the time we plodded through Astoria in the early afternoon- I felt like we’d already done so much commuting, so much critical thinking, and had received so much information. We began our day’s activities with a bus ride into Astoria to meet with New York State assembly member Steven Raga, who oversees the 30th district (which encompasses many of the neighborhoods that my cohort and I had come to know and love during our time in NYC). When we arrived at the drab building, we were ushered into a conference room where 20 chairs had been set up around an immense wooden table. I quickly sat down and eagerly awaited Mr. Raga’s arrival.
We spoke with Mr. Raga about his job, the challenges he faces with the internal structure of the New York State government and with the U.S federal government, his wellbeing, and the work he has tried and is trying to do for his constituents. Our conversation was humbling, somewhat somber, and clearly indicative of the fact that I know frighteningly little about how the different levels of our government actually work. I fought a feeling of deep unsettlement when we finally walked out the office’s double-doors. Mr. Raga was exhausted. When asked, he told us that he “absolutely believes” that he sacrifices his own human rights for the sake of his job, that he does not have the time to emotionally process the moments when his duty as a politician conflicts with the will of his heart, and that he and his team essentially work around the clock but do not feel as though they are ever doing enough. This was not the conversation I expected- I was grateful to Mr. Raga for being real with us, but it was scary to think about someone occupying a position that seems so empowering and positive from the outside, while the reality is more like constant exhaustion, self-sacrifice, and the struggle to fight feelings of deeply rooted anxiety that change is not happening fast enough or in the right ways.
Being in Mr. Raga’s office and having the privilege of listening to him provided one half of the fascinating dichotomy of information about community organizing that we recieved on Tuesday. Our next stop was the Malikah Safety Center- a grassroots nonprofit located in the heart of Astoria’s “Little Egypt”- that focuses on empowering Muslim women and recently arrived asylum seekers with resources and support for self protection, healing justice, community, and financial literacy.
Our conversation with Rana (Malikah’s incredible founder) and her colleagues took on a drastically different tone than our earlier talk with Mr. Raga. These women occupied a role in a completely different context than Mr. Raga, even though their office was located only a few short blocks away from his and many of the two group’s goals reflected one another. The main difference was this: Mr. Raga works within and for the state and federal government, and Malikah utilizes government funds to run a nonprofit, non-governmental organization that works alongside and supplements the work of the state and federal government. As such, the women we spoke to at Malikah radiated much more confidence, joy, and calm than Mr. Raga and his staff did. The women at Malikah used words like “serve” and “provide” to describe their work, while Mr. Raga used words like “represent” and “engage”.
It was so important for me to see both sides of this coin, for the sake of better understanding, respecting, having empathy for, and interacting with elected officials and with nonprofits doing important community work. Our professor and program director Dr. Azim Khan explained the difference like this: NGOs are like rabbits. They move fast and they are able to create localized change very quickly. The government, on the other hand, is like an elephant. It often moves very slowly, but each step it takes creates a much larger footprint of change than a rabbit’s does. I love Dr. Khan!
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The rest of Tuesday went by slowly and blurrily- I was SO TIRED! After visiting Malikah we went to an incredible Middle Eastern/West Asian dessert shop and sampled lots of incredible sweets, and then myself and a few others went for Mediterranean down the street. I ordered a chicken Kofta kebab and had my mind blown by how delicious it was, and then we finally hit the metro to head back home.
Our interactions with NGOs and prominent community organizers were far from over, however. Wednesday arrived and brought with it 2 more presentations. First we met with Adikhaar, another community grassroots org that focuses on serving the Nepali-speaking population of Queens. They provide adult English classes, support for job searches, legal advocacy for the rights of domestic workers, a Nepali youth organization, etc. etc. The founder, ____, is a particularly inspring woman who immigrated to the U.S from Nepal decades ago, worked as a nail tech for 17 years, and during that time, suffered 7 miscarriages. Her experience made her aware of the gap of supportive resources that are available to Nepali-speaking people in NYC, and so she began to organize with her community and eventually formed Adhikaar. She and her team are deeply involved in creating local legislation to protect Neplali-speakers’ right to language justice, and to protect Asian nail techs from experiencing reproductive issues as a result of exposure to the harmful chemicals and bacteria they encounter at work. __ and her team provide nail techs with health and safety classes to help educate them on strategies they can use to protect themselves if they work in buildings with poor ventilation. ___ and her team spoke to us about Adhikaar’s legal involvement and the struggles they have faced while trying to advocate for themselves and their community members.
The second presentation we received that day was from Arielle Rawlings. Arielle spoke to us about the work that her employer, the Affordable Neighborhood Cooperative Program, does, and about housing inequality in NYC. Cooperative housing is a system whereby each resident in an apartment building or townhouse gets to buy and retain ownership of their unit at a price that’s way below the market average. In exchange, each resident then agrees to contribute a monthly sum (the amount is decided by the building’s residents) to the building’s overall maintenance, and they also agree to cooperate with the other residents in the collective decision-making process about building affairs. Arielle explained what the benefits of cooperative housing are (avoids renter vulnerability, guarantees that resident’s monthly payments will be stable over time, promotes long-term affordability of units in the building, provides residents with the opportunity to build home equity, and prioritizes democratic control of the building- residents are not subject to the whims of landlords), as well as the history of NYC’s widely-known cooperative housing system, and how she and her teammates work to keep cooperative housing alive in a city where the cost of living rises while basic needs remain unmet for so many. It was a fascinating talk, and it was cool to hear about such a “seize the means of production”, community-oriented strategy for providing families in need with housing they can afford.
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Eventually it came time for us to sit down with Yeshe, Tashi, and Dr. Khan at a DELICIOUS Thai restaurant (shoutout to the Spicy Shallot in Jackson Heights!) to reflect upon the past 10 days and bid our coordinators farewell. We passed around plate after plate of sushi, Pad Thai, fried rice, Red Snapper, Massaman curry, and spring rolls, and we laughed and talked gratefully about all the places we had been, the people we’d visited, and the knowledge we’d all gained side by side. It was a sweet gathering- the mood stayed light and jittery despite the hard goodbyes that were rapidly approaching. I could NOT BELIEVE that in just a few short hours I’d be waking up to get on a plane to QATAR. And then on another to KATHMANDU! What?!? So cool!!!
As I write this on a massive airplane hurtling over the American Northeast, I feel like I already know so much more about the world around me and my dynamic place in it than I did 10 days ago. Learning through such an experiential, community-focused pedagogy during our time in the big city has deepened my understanding of my identity as a White, American Woman and of the weight- of the privilege- that my identity carries both within and beyond U.S borders. I have learned lots about human connection, too… The friendships I have cultivated with the incredible women (and Daniel lol) around me grow stronger every day, and I can’t wait to start exploring Nepal with them. Until then, Namaste!
