Skillful Livelihood

An externship class requirement is to write bi-weekly journal entries. I have not decided whether to post future entries but I thought the first one offered an interesting glimpse into this working life of mine. Enjoy. (And a shout-out to RWG because I was not able to concoct one in my Washington Blade interview...).

Journal Entry - Week 1 & 2 Richael Faithful - Grp. B

I had never known the organization’s name for which my (Buddhist) sangha-friend, Pabitra, worked as a national organizer before I was hired there. Admittedly, I should have remembered from our social outing over a year ago when we met as community organizers. We discussed our queer activism histories and present political lives which at some point invited a conversation about the potential collaboration between my organization, the Virginia Organizing Project (VOP), and her organization, the Rights Working Group (RWG).

Then, I grew suspicious about our get together. National groups always poured over local, multi-issue groups like VOP to “collaborate.” VOP’s founder and personal mentor, Joe Szakos, plainly described these national groups that suggested such collaborations as none other than “vultures.” Worse, Pabitra had asked about our membership—a red flag with neon bulbs and florescent fireworks. We had little “capacity” as organizers call it in my region; in fact, my purpose for the year was to deepen relationships with old supporterse and to bring in new ones. This was a tricky proposition especially because VOP, as an opportunistic, multi-issue group, did not claim members; rather, we assembled a database. There was a big difference. We were not able to hand over a member-list because we reached out to supporters based on the issue and timeliness for “the ask.” Therefore, national groups, by default, were parasites because they wanted database access. Didn’t they know that there are only so many open-minded, politically engaged-Virginians?

So after we left dinner that particular evening I never followed up with Pabitra, although we continued to see each other at sangha. After all, I was VOP’s Northern Virginia organizer for a short year which made me deeply discriminatory about with whom I spent my organizing time and extremely limited resources. Today, I smile to think about my rigidness a year ago, though, I understood why I never followed up. Non-profits are no different from any other private or governmental organization that meticulously guards its resources. VOP was building in the most powerful part of the state for the first time in its ten-year history. It was the first time, in part, to avoid national inside-the-beltway vultures. Besides, as an apprentice, my discretion to forge those friendships was limited. VOP’s culture was in many ways anti-establishment in that the staff teased me mercilessly about leaving organizing for law school. I assured them that I would not “turn corporate” and remain active with them. My post-1L assessment: so far, so good.

Since my departure last August I have learned that organizers-turned-lawyers exist and they do so without compromising their core values or personal purpose. There is indeed a wide universe of radical people within the legal world. My only task now embark on the long process to identify my place within it. Determining my summer work was emotionally complicated. I did not mind starving a little if I was doing “good” work. I had found a part-time research position at my law school on its prison rape project, which was a good fit considering that I did undergraduate research with a woman who later became a mentor and friend. Yet my summer schedule looked incomplete. I did not want to work for the sake of working because, after all, I reasoned, I could always write law articles, but ideally I would spend my time “making (more direct) change.” Literally moments after I made my decision to seek out a second job, Pabitra sent me a Facebook message:

“Do you know of any law students looking for summer internships? We had two prospects but one we didn't think worked and the other took another position. Would love to bring on someone real cool, like you!” I took the hint from both Pabitra and the Universe. I had a second job.

I’m entering my third week of my RWG externship. All indications show that I am on the right track. I am surrounded by passionate, grounded, and intelligent people who are connected to their communities for which they work. Jumana, my supervisor and RWG’s Policy Director, is an attorney from a prestigious DC law school, who is rather neat, despite her program’s pedigree. She has a quick-wit and like myself, plays down her humor with a nonchalant demeanor. She is also extremely knowledgeable about immigration policy (it is much better to have a smart supervisor, I hear). I told myself on the second day when we were having a late-morning tea break at a nearby vegan cafe to discuss my internship, “Yes, me and Jumana are going to get along just fine.” I acknowledged that our personalities were complimentary: she was a fast-talking, sometimes scattered extravert; and I was, well, not. I was especially pleased that offered me a break from the policy report pile to which I was assigned for “getting informed.” She did not even lift an eyebrow when I had to dispose of the molasses-lump-in-a-cup, which she paid for. “We will be just fine.”

I had one other observation about the office—a profound one: I was one of two Blacks at the Asian American Justice Center (AJC). In other words, I was amongst Asian people. This was a day 1 discovery, one which I cannot say that I entirely learned on my own. Lisa, the administrative support staffer, like myself, has dreadlocks so I was only mildly surprised when I was mistaken for her by another staff member from behind. I gave this person the benefit of the doubt even though Lisa and I are thirty years apart and look nothing alike. I laughed out loud when later that afternoon it was relayed to me about a different staff member that I was related to Lisa. Of course. The funny thing is that I had never been misidentified by non-whites. Perhaps it was not a White curse to see all non-whites as the same. Truth is, though, it is much more hurtful when Whites confuse non-whites because most Whites lack the empathy attached to experiencing the mistake from the other side. Nonetheless, the good news is that all five RWG staff people can distinguish me from Lisa, which was especially comforting when Lisa informed me that she had a son older than me. They say when you reach 24 aging takes on a whole new meaning but I thought that was extreme.

I was self-conscious about my racial exotic-ness at the office until last Tuesday. RWG was hosting a “convening” to plan with member and allied organizations our new racial profiling campaign. Overall, it was a successful meeting and pleasant day. Larry Yates, my bearded VOP buddy, attended, and later reported to me that he thought the meeting very useful. I was wearing a rich cyan polo with brown khakis and brown shoes. I was not certain whether my shirt really matched the khakis but none of this does not really matter when I am so uncomfortable in “professional” clothes anyway, and when eliminating racial profiling (fortunately) did not depend on my outfit that day. The idea was that I was feeling self-conscious about sticking out a little, which is hardly a new feeling but one I had not felt in a long time as an intentionally anonymous law student.

Near the end of the meeting, Aadika, RWG’s policy associate, approached me. She complimented my shirt saying that she liked the color. I cannot remember my facial expression at the time, yet I envision it was somewhere between shocked and pleasantly surprised. She went on to say that she tries to wear pastels as well because they look good for our skin tones, which she said were similar.

“Uh...” I thought, “That’s right.” It’s true.

Despite years building bridges between “similarly situated” groups suffering from some form of injustice or another, I sometimes hold on to my own discomfort in new spaces. Living in Virginia, even in the Northern Virginia cosmopolitan, my racial experience was largely black-white. I have never worked with another East Asian, South/east Asian, Arab, or even Muslim person even though I have had close Chinese, Indian, and Muslim friends. It was my first time so that Aadika’s matter-of-fact comment was a light-bulb moment for me. We both have yellowish-brown hues. A lovely color, I think.

My geography is poor; I am monolingual; and I know little immigration, yet I was brought on in the spirit of solidarity. I care about what happens to all communities of color who experience systemic injustice and really, Jumana sensed that I deeply care about any and all people who are suffering because our liberation is bound together. My lesson reinforced that RWG is “good people” as I like to say. I am willing to learn and it appears that they are willing to teach.