February Update from Our Executive Director

Dear friends,

I’m writing this in the third week after so many things began to shift under our feet. A number of you have been reaching out, concerned and wondering how we’re doing. And along with that, what are we doing? And is there anything you can do for us? So here’s a quick update:

Personally, I’m fine. We’re busy. I’m enjoying my team and the camaraderie of the work we’re doing. I’ve appreciated the sense of the work being important and relevant. I know I need hope but I don’t want to be naive. I don’t feel blindsided by decisions the Trump Administration is making, but the speed and severity of change, at least for organizations serving refugees and needing to run payroll, are greater than I expected. And the news has a whiplash quality: Oh no! We’re losing funding; Oh actually we’re not. Or not yet... The Trump playbook always seems to include some bizarre proposition--like annexing Greenland–which makes it hard to interpret the headlines: what’s real, what’s Greenland? 

I’ve been thinking about hope. At Beautiful Day we chose hope as one of our core values so I’ve been trying to pay attention to how I experience it when things are going badly. I’ve been reading an interesting memoir (The Return) by a Libyan-British author Hisham Matar, about his displacement and eventual return to a homeland where his father was imprisoned and then disappeared. The story is an odyssey through hope which he describes as “cunning and persistent.” At moments he veers into fantasy, anger, despair. At times cruel and powerful people prey on his hope to manipulate him. But Matar also makes decisions to nurture hope with all his intuition and sensitivity. He sees how some people manage suffering by holding space in their mind and heart to love. My simple version of hope these days involves staying calm and pressing forward, as strategically as I know how, into a new reality. I do genuinely feel hopeful when I’m enjoying the meaningful relationships we’ve built with each other and our refugee participants. 

Here’s the new reality as I understand it: the US refugee admissions program is suspended. The US government smartphone app (CPB One), which allowed people fleeing oppression to schedule an appointment at the border, has shut down. The program allowing people from several troubled countries (Haiti, Venezuela, Nicaragua, Cuba) to enter on parole and then apply for TPS (Temporary Protected Status) has ended. Other things are a bit foggier. It sounds to me like those who entered the US as parolees or through the CPB One app and were subsequently unable to adjust their status are now vulnerable to deportation. The New York Times reported that many Venezuelans have had their TPS status revoked or set to expire, so they are vulnerable. Meanwhile resettlement agencies across the country including our local ones are in the process of shutting down their Reception and Placement departments. What a loss! It sounds to me like many agencies are also wondering if they will be reimbursed for monies already spent. This could mean existential financial jeopardy for some.

And refugees are suffering: I’ve heard of families who sold everything they owned in order to keep a scheduled appointment at the border only to arrive and find it canceled. Our local resettlement agencies were preparing to meet families who had sold or given away everything they owned, including their tent. With their flights cancelled we can only imagine their plight. They are probably returning to their camps, now homeless, worse off than before. PBS news reported about Afghans who had assisted the US military and had already been vetted (through a scrupulously rigorous process) only to have their visas revoked and flights cancelled. All this leaves some of the world’s most vulnerable people stuck in third countries without connections or resources, or returning to danger at home. I doubt we’ll hear many of their voices. Some will be imprisoned and may disappear. For many refugees right here in Rhode Island and all across the country it means that family members will not be coming, at least for now. They’ll need to cope until maybe the “cunning persistence” of hope can start creeping in to guide them forward again.

So what are we doing? It’s actually kind of nice to be very busy. We’re educating ourselves to offer language-appropriate know-your-rights training for those we work with. Thankfully all our participants right now have social security cards and work-authorization papers. But there’s concern in our area about ICE raids which could be traumatic or dangerous for people who don’t speak English.

We’ve set up video cameras and safety protocols and we’re seeking legal resources. Our programs are going strong with 50+ refugees in the building every week, so we want to keep everyone safe. We’re considering inviting various staff and trusted volunteers to assist as front door greeters at certain times just to ensure that we’re paying attention and helping everyone feel safe and welcome.

I’m staying in close connection with other leaders of resettlement organizations and our state refugee coordinator.

We’re trying to communicate with stakeholders and funders. Even with grant applications going out the door, we’re adjusting our language so that they are grounded in reality, as best we know it, and not wishful thinking. We’re making plans to gather some special interest groups like local faith leaders and business leaders later this spring so we can deepen partnerships. And I’m just trying to put time aside for this kind of update. We really do appreciate your concern and partnership during this time.

We know there’s a lot of interest in doing something. We’re working on expanding opportunities to volunteer. All my staff are outlining small job descriptions for a volunteer, even if it’s virtual or only for a couple hours.

This might surprise you, but we’re hiring. (I spent part of this afternoon checking references!) We’ve just posted a job to gather and organize local business-partners who want to create a better pathway for refugees into employment.

And this might surprise you too: we’re speeding up plans to release some swag (t-shirts, hats, magnet-bumper stickers). We’d like to create some swag tools that allow people to publicly express their support for refugees. 

What can you do? This list tends to stay the same: support us financially, buy our granola, gift our granola, volunteer if you’re able. We still have a few openings on our board or on a committee. We would especially love some legal support. If there’s something specific you would like to offer that we might benefit from, please let our volunteer coordinator know. As this year goes on we may be looking for business mentors to help guide refugee entrepreneurs. And stay tuned in case we can organize a hackathon for graphic designers to help us put out some terrific swag.

More generally--especially if you’re in another part of the country--this is a critical time to stay in touch with your local refugee resettlement agency and connect personally with refugees and other immigrants in your area to express support. And please let your representatives at every level of government as well as faith and civic and business leaders know your position on humanitarian work and refugees. Even in cases where we can’t do anything it is important to bear witness as a carefully-built system that saves lives and enriches communities is being dismantled. At the very least our leaders should know, and know that we know, and hear how we feel about it.

Thanks again for your encouragement and all the things you do for us.