Moreau Center Social Justice Programs

Sophie

Siena Henson- El Centro de la Raza

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My name is Siena Henson and I am rising Junior at UP. I am majoring in Sociology and Psychology with a minor in Spanish, and am currently interning at El Centro de la Raza (The Center for People of All Races) in Seattle. El Centro is a non-profit organization grounded in the LatinX community in Washington state, which focuses on unifying people of all backgrounds towards a common goal of eradicating oppression based on poverty, sexism, racism, sexual orientation, and discrimination of any kind. They are passionate about empowering and defending the human rights of all people, especially those in our most vulnerable communities, and work to educate others about the importance of justice, dignity and equity for all. I encourage you all to visit their website to receive a more eloquent description of their mission, vision and principles.

My position at this organization is a generous title; ‘Emergency Relief Program Intern’. What this basically entails is assisting my supervisor with tasks that need to get done throughout the day, specifically as it relates to the Plate Fund Organization we collaborate with. The Plate Fund is providing financial assistance to restaurant-industry workers who have lost their jobs due to COVID-19, and through the help of donations, they have been able to approve 10,500 applications and distribute $5.25 million to those hit hard by this pandemic. Many of the applicants who apply through El Centro de la Raza for the Plate Fund do not speak English, and therefore experience more difficulty than most when trying to apply for assistance. It’s an incredibly humbling experience to speak a language you aren’t very familiar with to a native speaker over the phone – something we as English speakers take for granted in our everyday lives. It is impossible for me to experience the difficulty of not speaking the native language in the country I call home, but I get a very small taste of it during my internship.

It’s a true loss that I cannot meet with our clientele in person – from what I have heard, El Centro is normally bustling with visitors, and is a hub for all people where they can feel welcome and safe. Every person I have worked with has been so wonderfully gracious and patient with my mediocre Spanish skills, and I hope to meet some of them in person someday. I am very fortunate to be working with El Centro de la Raza during this incredibly uncertain and disappointing time, and even more so fortunate to be working under my supervisor, Dulce Gutierrez Vasquez.

If you are ever in Seattle (post-COVID), I implore you to visit this beautiful organization – you are guaranteed to feel that you are home.

Sophia Riccardi- Because People Matter

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Hello! My name is Sophia Riccardi and I’m a junior social work major. I am currently doing my internship in Portland, OR with the nonprofit, Because People Matter (BPM).

Because People Matter interns assembling lunches.

For those unfamiliar with their work, BPM focuses on mobilization, relief and transformation for populations in the margins. They demonstrate an incredible level of generosity serving all people, ensuring that they are known and loved. Under normal conditions, BPM runs a relief program for the houseless community called Night Strike (every Thursday under the Burnside Bridge) and a summer kids program called BTown Kids.

Because of the health crisis BPM has had to find creative ways to continue to serve these communities. This has included serving 1500 sack lunches per week to three houseless camps that the city of Portland set up in response to COVID. BPM also set up a “modified” Btown Kids by passing out 500 to-go lunches and craft kits a week. In addition, they’re working with Portland Parks and Recreation to build a positive presence in the parks and connecting with the community by handing out resources.

Since the minute I started at BPM I’ve been welcomed, challenged, and have grown in my own goals. One goal I have is to break out of my comfort zone and gain confidence in my ability both professionally and personally. There hasn’t been a day yet at BPM where I haven’t been pushed, either by staff or interactions with the community, to work on this goal.

My first week I was challenged entering into a community park where I was forced to face my own white privilege, and analyze my own internal racial biases and stereotypes. It was a powerful experience to return to the park each week and continue to connect with community members and break down those biases I had.

My second week I started to gain more confidence in how to serve the houseless camps with dignity by connecting with the residents in conversation, learning names and ensuring they had a choice in their meals. The ultimate goal is to build relationships and show people that we see them no matter where they are in life.

It’s strange figuring out how to safely serve in the middle of a pandemic but I’m grateful for the opportunity to work with the BPM staff and other interns. I’m excited to grow and continue to build relationships with the community.

I’ll challenge you by asking, what does it mean to show up for others? How can we continue to serve our communities now and beyond? Push yourself to break out of your shell, and have those really important conversations with yourself and others about racial injustices and other social justice topics. We are all human beings who deserve to be known, valued and loved!

Rosie Ith- Gender and Development for Cambodia

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This summer, apart from coming home for the first time in 2 years, I am also interning at a non-profit organization called Gender and Development for Cambodia (GADC). GADC’s expertise is women in leadership and eliminating domestic violence. With my passion for learning and sharing, GADC’s management team accepted me to work as an intern in one of the programs called Community Outreach (CO) program.

Among other tasks that I am assigned, I’ve been developing training manual on women in leadership for future in-house training since early May. The main audience for this training is commune gender core groups. They are a group of villagers who volunteer as human resource people for other villagers in their community. This training will address one of the GADC’s strategies to build capacity for core groups (both women and men) so that they become agents of change in their community. Furthermore, to develop potential to reach official leadership position when opportunities come.    

For this past month, I have learned many things from preparing budgets for each implemented activity, to communication with people from different background, on the top of my assigned work. Just in the last two weeks, I joined trainings that GADC conducted for core groups and visited them in their provinces to observe their facilitation skills. It was the first time in my life to do a field visit during work which was really exciting. I learned so much during the field visit. One thing that was really eye-opening was that I was able to see the educational gap between people in provinces and people in the city where I live which proved to me how important it is to train core groups so that they become useful resources for people who might need someone to consult with on their problems. Other thing that I found inspired me so much was that with their limited ability, they can still fulfill so meaningful job for their community. They earn a good reputation and recognition from community people.

Now I am back from the visit, I feel more confident in developing a training manual for the core groups. In addition, since the CO program is small, I get to work closely with the program manager and the executive director which has been a great opportunity for me to learn about management skills not just in theory but in practice. I will finish my internship by the third week of July 2020, and by then, I might have developed my first ever training manual. A step forward to my future post-graduate degree (public policy)!

Interns for Justice- Summer 2020

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To say that this summer’s Interns for Justice Program is embracing different challenges than past years is an understatement. As our world is in the throes of the COVID-19 pandemic and protests continue across our nation demanding an end to police violence against Black people in the United States, our eight Interns for Justice (IFJ) are engaging with communities at a time when the call to action is urgent, and our core values of social justice, community, solidarity, and reflection are especially grounding and needed.

Over the next 8-10 weeks, IFJs will serve with organizations working alongside and advocating with marginalized communities. Through these experiences, they will deepen their understanding of social justice issues and critically examine root causes. Through building relationships with colleagues and the communities and individuals they serve, they’ll develop capacity as allies in solidarity with others.

This summer’s cohort of interns is engaging in a variety of internship placements. Because of the COVID-19 crisis, several internships have adapted to a virtual format, allowing IFJs to engage in their host organization’s work while working safely from home. Others are taking precautions while proceeding with doing work on the front lines, providing vital services to communities in need.

Interns & Placements:

Meg Bender-Stephanski – Ecumenical Ministries of Oregon (Portland, OR)

Alannah Clay- Because People Matter (Portland, OR)

Carolina Cortes- Center for Gender, Migration, and Justice (Portland, OR / Stuttgart, Germany)

Siena Henson- El Centro de la Raza (Seattle, WA)

Rosie Ith- Gender and Development for Cambodia (Phnom Penh, Cambodia)

Maggie Loft- Girls Inc. (Portland, OR)

Sophia Riccardi- Because People Matter (Portland, OR)

Katie Wojda- Joint Religious Legislative Coalition (Minneapolis, MN)

Throughout the summer, each intern will share reflections about their internship experience on this blog. We encourage you to come back often and follow along!

Flowers and Bullets

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by Meghan Potter

“They tried to bury us, they did not know we were seeds”

On the morning of our last full day in Tucson we met with a group called Flowers and Bullets. This is an organization that is trying to politicize and organize their community through two very simple things—food and art. The abandoned school that they have turned into a farm is where we met, and we learned about the importance of accessible sustainability for the neighborhood. We got the chance to help work the land, pulling weeds and prepping  crop lines. As for the art, Flowers and Bullets designs merchandise and paints murals for the neighborhood. The art serves as an act of resistance to the oppression so many people in Tucson have experienced. So much of this week has been so heavy, and working on the farm was a moment of hope, a moment of peace. Meeting with groups like Flowers and Bullets is so beautiful because it reminds us that no one is alone in this fight. I am so blown away and inspired by the resilience of all the people that we have met with this week, because despite the struggle people are always willing to fight. There are so many people out there doing the work to fix the problems of the world and ultimately what it’s all about is finding community. This organization is using two simple things, food and art, to build up a community.

Students working in field.

What stuck with me most from meeting with this group was their name, Flowers and Bullets. When I asked where that name comes from, Jacob—one of the founders of Flowers and Bullets—explained that the name resonated with people for a lot of different reasons. According to Jo-Jo, a community member helping out at the farm, Flowers and Bullets reflects finding the beauty in the struggle. The stark contrast of hope and pain is represented so perfectly in the image of a flower growing out of a bullet. For me, that’s what this whole experience has been about. Flowers and bullets, beauty and pain, hope and heartbreak.

Legal Immigration Simulation and Visit to the San Xavier Mission

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San Xavier Mission on Tohono O’odham Nation

by Brooke Niemer

Today we started off our day simulating different situations that migrants face. We represented thirteen different individuals trying to gain citizenship in the United States, compared to the millions of people who apply for citizenship per year. Each of us had a different character with different socioeconomic statuses, home countries, education levels, and family situations. For my character, I was a white male from the United Kingdom who was a millionaire and a soccer player, and I had a criminal background. Just because I had money, I had the quickest way to gain citizenship. After hearing everyone else’s stories, it was a very hard realization that if often takes decades to even have a green card or a work visa. Even those who have families in the U.S. does not always give them a hand up when trying to attain citizenship. It was so frustrating to hear that people who are living in fear and extreme poverty, are still not able to have an easier path. 

Then we traveled to the San Xavier Mission. Upon arrival, many of us were confused about why we were there. We took a walk and rock climb up to the top of a hill with a cross on top. It was an opportunity to reflect on our immersion and life. I also realized that that we are on stolen land and recognized how beautiful the land is. Then I walked around the mission, and mostly into the church. It was very beautiful and different memorials were set up and candles were laid down in honor of people. During reflection this evening, we came to the understanding that we were there to realize the history of colonization and forced religion upon the native people. We had to reflect on religion and the impact it has on society, and ways that religion and spirituality has positively and negatively benefited society.

Operation Streamline

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by Noa Higgins

There is a gathering of people in the court room. Our group of 14 lines two benches in the back of the large room. This is the place where justice is supposed to be served, where the judge hands out sentences to those who have broken the law in order to uphold the standards that we have put in place to protect our society. But here before us, we see officers passing out headsets for translating to the individuals sitting in the chairs. Each one is shackled by foot and those around their hands are connected to a clanking chain hugging their mid-drifts as they shuffle through their motions. And while the building presents itself as a professional place of justice, the situation before us pleads the opposite. The individuals calmly and quietly sitting in the chairs are not criminals with the goal of harm. They are individuals with faces of compliance, there to filter through the system that we have created for them, without truly understanding their sentencing. They are the people who were found, attacked, and arrested by border patrol in the desert, two days ago at the same time and place that we were walking through the trails. What is it that the system does not see here? Not only the system in general, but what does border patrol, and all of the individuals who play a direct or indirect role in condemning these individuals not see here?

What is it? If everyone else in the court room were to be given brown skin, Spanish as their first language, and a story about how they barely escaped violence, persecution, starvation, injustice etc. in their home country, imagine how different things would be. Imagine if the defendants each were able to explain their situation, telling the judge about their last meal at home before they grabbed their backpack and left. Each defendant explaining how he kissed his brother, mother, wife, son one last time before promising he would turn himself in if necessary so that they would not be left wondering where his body was. Or, in what was the case of many pleading asylum in the courtroom today, telling the judge how when they heard that final death threat from that group back home, they knew they had to get out as quickly as possible.

Because it is sometimes impossible to make others empathize, why have we created a system where there is no room for sympathy? Operation streamline doesn’t even give individuals their basic right to a full trial; they are herded like cattle through the doors, up and out of the chairs, to the microphones to say “si, si, si, culpable”, and back out the doors. Fifteen people standing in a row at a time, and one group right after the other for more than an hour, five days a week. The only thing most of these individuals are guilty of is searching for a better future for their kids, more working hours even in the worst of the jobs, safety, and refuge. It is sickening to think about how different things would be if the people sitting in the chairs in front of the judge were white and English-speaking. It is difficult to say what it is that those in favor of the system could possibly see, but it is clear the dehumanization that happens within these courts. Justice is in no way being served here.  

Finding the words to express what we recently witnessed is incredibly difficult. But the faces of the individuals looking back at those who are their to watch their “hearing” is something I believe none of us will ever forget. While sitting on the court benches as well as now, I find myself feeling helpless, only knowing to pray fiercely for protection for the brave people who had hope and justice cruelly ripped away from them.  

students entering Federal Court building for Operation Streamline

by Alexus Garcia

Extinguish

I struggle to picture myself in society after this experience

I feel stuck

Bound by theoretical shackles that could have very easily been my reality

Do you admit that you crossed the border illegally?

Immigration is divisive

Often classified: not for the dinner table

I exist in a world where my peers support the death of those who do not look like them

Are you pleading guilty voluntarily?

There is no economical benefit worth the inhumanity that is the United States Immigration System

I do not wear this flag with pride

I do not tolerate any individual that supports past or present policy

Do you understand the rights that you are giving up?

Hearing my name called in that court room

Garcia

Garcia

Garcia

How do you plead?

Culpable

A powerful reminder that everything we have as individuals is sheer luck

Due to my family

Who have sacrificed so that I could Flourish

It is a blessing that I was born in this country

Free from political corruption & poverty

By some random power

I was gifted safety & a life with loved ones

Protection under a government I am ashamed to call mine

Tucson

Nogales

A day of mixed emotions

Guilt

Anger

Vergüenza

Fortune

Still learning how to re-enter this world containing a fire I didn’t know existed

Fear and Desperation on the U.S.- Mexico Border

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By Aidan Hall & David Vargas Puga

Our first view of Nogales, Senora set a tone that would stick with us for the rest of our excursion. The U.S-Mexico border cuts straight through this community, and measures have been taken to ensure that loved ones stranded on opposite sides cannot even hold hands across this line. The level of militarization of this border resembles that of places like the “demilitarized zone” that divides North and South Korea, who have technically been at war with each other for the past 65 years, but unlike these two nations, the U.S and Mexico ostensibly have a symbiotic
and friendly relationship.

  • Jose Antonio Mural

The war comparison unfortunately starts to make more sense when discussing the fate of José Antonio, the 16 year old Mexican boy shot 10 times in the back and killed by a U.S Border Patrol officer on the Mexican side of the border in 2012. The involved officer alleged that he felt threatened by the rocks Antonio was throwing at him, though despite the immense level of U.S surveillance of the area in question, no video footage was ever provided that could verify this claim. Other murders have occurred in the past few years following this exact pattern, and no Border Patrol officer has yet faced justice for their crimes. To be effective at achieving the goal of “American security,” the border wall needs protection: razor wire, security cameras, and guards with guns who have the willingness to use them at the slightest provocation. In Nogales, Sonora, the border is not just a wall or a barrier, but a threat, a loaded gun aimed at every Mexican citizen in sight, and the U.S doesn’t want to see any sudden movements.

On the other side of the border, and the other side of this issue, is the desperation faced by people like Daniel (name changed in respect for his privacy). As he tells it, he was forced to leave southern Mexico, from his home in Michoacán after the passage of NAFTA in 1994, which devastated the Mexican agricultural economy. Mexican farmers could not compete with the heavily subsidized American agricultural products flowing across the border after the establishment of continent-wide “free trade,” and as a result many thousands of workers were forced to seek employment elsewhere. Many of these migrants, like Daniel, decided to set their
sights on the United States. Unfortunately, U.S officials seem to have foreseen this situation, or at the very least, were ready to respond to it. The U.S Border Patrol introduced a new strategic plan in 1994, which attempted to reroute migrant traffic from the safe ports of entry in cities like Nogales to the more harsh and uninhabited desert regions of the border. The militarization and securitization of safe ports of entry would be accelerated sharply, and the border would be left less fortified elsewhere in order to bring this about. This plan of “Prevention Through Deterrence” had the express goal of endangering the lives of migrants coming from Mexico and
in doing so discourage them from making the journey, and for this reason, Daniel promised himself that though he yearned for the opportunity that the U.S had to offer, he would never attempt to cross anywhere but a safe port of entry.

Of course, as everyone knows, many migrants still do attempt this desert border crossing, and this speaks to the stark absence of economic opportunity throughout the country. As we learned, though there is much work to be done in Nogales, working at the various American-owned factories there, the workers are compensated very little for their labor. For
example, in order to have the money needed to purchase a single pound of pork, a factory laborer earning the minimum wage of 19 pesos per hour would need to spend more than nine hours doing brutal factory work. An American in Portland, Oregon would spend less than 30 minutes working to earn enough to purchase this pork at their local supermarket. The standard minimum for the workweek of a Nogales factory worker is roughly 48 hours, and the pay from this work schedule leaves few able to afford the basic necessities of life, forcing them to take on more and more shifts. We, as privileged college students, on the immersion trip, were delighted by how low the prices were at the supermarket we visited, but for the average resident of Nogales such a trip is an excruciating exercise in budgeting. Many ordinary people work upwards of 60 hours per week, and still must worry about whether they have enough to make it to the next pay day.
This kind of life of constant, back-breaking labor and economic anxiety seems rightfully horrifying to us American students, but for many of those trying to get by in Mexico, this state of affairs represents the standard “middle class” experience.


Fear and desperation were the most prominent themes of the day, and I don’t think that any of us on this trip will ever be able to forget it.

No More Deaths- Migrant Trail Walk

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by Abby Kassa

Today was a significantly influential beginning to our Border Immersion experience. We participated in a desert walk in Arivaca, Arizona approximately 5 miles from the border which also involved dropping off water and canned goods at three different points on this walk for the individuals and families migrating from Mexico. I found myself having conflicting thoughts and emotions throughout the experience. Although I developed a deep appreciation for our ability to gain the slightest insight into the harrowing journey that migrants experience and were able to provide a form of service through the placement of canned food and water at various points, it was difficult for me to realize the reality of my privileged position.

For us, this was a short hike in which many of us guiltily enjoyed the natural beauty of Arivaca’s landscape, found ourselves excited for the lunch that was promised and awaiting us back at the trailhead, and indulged in the comfortable thoughts of returning to the Borderlinks base in Tucson. We did not share the fear of migrant individuals hiding from life-threatening situations. We were not leaving our families behind—possibly for good. We were not on day seven of our journey: tired, famished, and dehydrated. We were not fearing individuals who consider us ‘aliens’. And we were not fearing that Border Patrol or right-winged activists would force us into detention centers, detain, harm, or kill us if they found us. Although this walk was thought provoking, I am mournful and angered by my inability to empathize with these oppressed migrants as I wish that I could. With the commencement of this immersion with the desert walk, I hope to continue through this week in a mindset that is aware of the privilege that I hold and how I can utilize and transform this privilege into fruitful action that aides to end the unjust, racially charged mistreatment of migrant individuals. I wish to aide in the hope for migrants that is expressed through the humanitarian efforts of various groups that we met—and will continue to meet throughout the week— such as those at Borderlinks and the No More Deaths Abuse Documentation Working Group. From the brutality and harrowing experience of the migrants that I have been made more clearly aware of today, I am reminded of the importance to perceive each human being on an individual level and to furtherly be a source of hope and relief for those individuals that need it the most.

by Vanessa Hernandez-Zepeda

Today was the first full day and I am already struggling to wrap my mind around what we have learned thus far. The day consisted of two main events: the desert walk and an abuse documentation presentation. Coming into the immersion, I was most looking forward to the walk through the Arivaca Desert. However, this initial excitement was quickly disturbed by the looming presence of border patrol agents located at the checkpoint and the trailhead. The walk through the desert served as an important reminder to check my privilege. Specifically, the hike was a reminder that we are participating in this immersion in solidarity with immigrants rather than charity. Although we were leaving water and canned food along the trail, the goal of this hike was to gain a better understanding of the treacherous journey individuals are willing to make in pursuit of a better life.

Throughout the hike, I found myself struggling to understand my place in this timeline. After all, both of my parents are immigrants from Mexico who came to the U.S. in search of stability. Reflecting on their experiences as immigrants was humbling. This realization made me grateful for the opportunity to share this experience with a group that understands the significance of taking up space in the desert. Even after learning about Prevention Through Deterrence – a border patrol strategy implemented in 1994 that forces immigrants to more remote and therefore dangerous border territories – we were able to come together as a group to engage in a larger conversation regarding what gives us hope. In an immersion where we are filled with so many reasons to not be hopeful, I am comforted by the fact that we can find hope through the meaningful conversations we have with one another.