Overcoming Fear and Seeking Solidarity: How We Must Defend Our Communities

This past weekend, a friend asked me, “How are you really?” The first word that came to mind was “lonely.”

Freezing in place…is rarely a winning strategy, even if it is dressed up as such.

Not because I don’t have a great team and a loving family, but because professionally, I’m sensing the fear gripping all of us as the federal administration threatens our community, our organizations, and even our industry. The environment is working to keep us isolated, afraid, and silenced.

Many of us are in a moment of introspection. Some are reviewing their organizational language to excise trigger words like “immigrant” or “equity.” Others are engaging in “planning” to decide whether they’ll administer the same programs or make the same investments, while others are still wondering if it’s wiser to brace ourselves and sit back waiting for all of it to pass in three-plus years.

But freezing in place, as Hildy Gottlieb reminds us at NPQ, is rarely a winning strategy, even if it is dressed up as such by political consultants like James Carville.

Addressing Our Fears

It feels like we’re being bullied by the federal administration.

I’ve been reflecting on my own experience as a bullied kid. At the time, I was pudgy and wore thick-rimmed glasses. I remember dreading homeroom in junior high because a classmate (let’s call him Robert) would punch me in the arm every day. I’m still not sure why he treated me like this, but years later I wondered if he punched me to prove that he could overpower me despite knowing that I was taking an after-school martial arts class.

Still, I sat there every day, taking his punches, not reacting.

I wanted to be invisible then. My extreme shyness led me to refuse the honor of addressing the graduating class as one of the valedictorians. I wanted to do my work and let all the commotion pass over me as quickly as possible. I felt lonely then too, disconnected from the broader community.

I’m realizing now that I didn’t have the tools to engage in these moments. I was gripped by fear and insecurity. I didn’t know how to tell Robert to stop, and I didn’t have a community that could coach me into being proud of who I was.

When the spotlight is on us, and especially when we are facing adversity, it’s natural to retreat. It feels safer to avoid confrontation, more comfortable to find a way to bypass hard conversations. Indeed, we might even spend time creating new frameworks that affirm why it’s better not to engage and why it’s smarter to stay silent.

The decision to join a lawsuit…against the federal government was not an easy one.

The social impact sector is ensnared in that grip of fear and the resulting lure of neutrality. We are being swayed by the powerful winds of hate and demagoguery, and instead of putting up our sails and navigating our way out of this, we’re yelling “batten down the hatches” and hoping for the best. Like my younger self, we are willing to take the punches and hope it all passes.

Too many of us are staying quiet and justifying our silence with what we deem might be in the best interests of the community. While I support some of my friends who are making changes to protect much needed federal funding, I believe that all of us have a role to play in shaping the world we want. While we defend, we must also be proactive in finding ways to communicate our needs; our experiences; and, most importantly, the needs of the communities we serve.

I’ll be honest: I’m afraid of the conflict too. But at a minimum, I know we each must confront our personal fears of conflict. We must overcome the anxiety that comes over us when we need to arrive face-to-face with those whose goal is to harm us.

Change Begins with Us

Change does begin with us. A conflict’s results no doubt hinge on how we manage conflict within ourselves.

A couple of weeks ago, the community development financial institution (CDFI), where I work, Inclusive Action for the City, wrote a statement on our response to the attacks on the CDFI Fund.

We called for broad solidarity, beyond just CDFIs like us, that included other organizations committed to serving the communities where we work. We are not just lenders—we are advocates; we are resource connectors; and, above all, we must be neighbors.

Days later, we announced our decision to join a lawsuit to prevent the Internal Revenue Service from sharing taxpayer data with the US Department of Homeland Security (DHS), for the purposes of targeting immigrants for deportation.

This data sharing will harm taxpayers with individual tax identification numbers (ITINs), a number issued to those who are not eligible for a Social Security number. In addition to targeting these taxpayers, sharing their data with DHS will destabilize our local economies who rely on immigrants, many of whom have worked and paid taxes for years with the hope that one day they’ll be able to earn residency here in this country.

The data show that immigrants pay much more into our government than they receive, as much as $96 billion a year as of 2022. What’s more, we know immigrants start businesses and create jobs that serve our communities. According to one study, immigrant businesses generated $3.5 billion or 45.6 percent of all self-employed income in Los Angeles alone.

The decision to join a lawsuit with three worker centers across the country against the federal government was not an easy one. For nearly a month, our staff and board deliberated on the roles we can and should play in a time like this and asked questions like: “Why us? Is there another organization better equipped? What do we risk by joining? Is it possible that we’ll lose our jobs? Might we be personally targeted? How does this lawsuit hinder or advance our work with immigrant entrepreneurs?”

The greatest obstacle was not deciding the merits of the effort at hand, but overcoming personal fears and insecurities.

My colleagues followed up with text messages, emails, and even long-form analysis on the costs and benefits of joining. It was all thoughtful, professional, and caring. I was moved by everyone’s inquiry, all of us holding the gravity of the situation with open arms—and examining the issue from different vantage points like scientists using microscopes.

Ultimately, our team decided to move forward. The lawsuit is not a partisan move, but a decision to use legal tools to uphold the protections that have been afforded to immigrant entrepreneurs for decades.

For us, the lawsuit shows we’re standing up for our community and against an administration that is finding new ways to menace immigrants. If we could lift up the stories of the immigrant entrepreneurs we work with, then we should. Our privilege should be used for unity, not division.

What Defending Our Communities Requires

Through this process, I learned that the greatest obstacle was not deciding the merits of the effort at hand, but overcoming personal fears and insecurities that may have led us to retreat in the face of a bully.

Sometimes I wonder what I could have done differently when facing Robert back in junior high. I have so much compassion for my younger self who was just trying to survive. I realize now that Robert might’ve been suffering too, lashing out because he was struggling with an insecurity deep inside. While I’m proud I didn’t hit back, I wonder how he would have responded if I had told him how he was making me feel and engaged him in what was bothering him. What would have happened if I had asked for help from one of my classmates who were witnesses to this every day?

It’s easier to stay quiet and divided. But now is a time for us to seek wholeness together. Now is a time for solidarity, a proud and vocal solidarity that overcomes fear. In Cherished Belonging, published last year, Father Greg Boyle from Homeboy Industries writes, “To be whole, we need to get our fears out of our way, to invite them in without judgment. This fearlessness becomes the contour of our ultimate joy.”

There are many strategies to defend our communities, but we must begin by being brave enough to confront our own fears to support the future we all deserve.