Power Station

We will look back on 2020, the year of COVID-19, as the moment when our nation’s longstanding systemic inequities became impossible to ignore. Just look at our digital divide. Right now, over 17 million children lack the requisite connectivity plans or devices needed to participate in a remote learning mandate. It is not only a problem of broadband access. It is also a challenge of adoption, the ability of families to afford laptops and service plans. Which means that parents are also excluded from engaging in 21st century commerce, from banking, to health services, to shopping, that have increasingly, and sometimes exclusively, migrated online. The impacts are felt most acutely by those already grappling with housing and food insecurity. While federal resources are limited, municipalities have become the change makers, creating solutions and taking action to implement them. And these mayors, tribal leaders state regulatory bodies and residents have an indefatigable partner in Next Century Cities, a national

This nation is finally cracking open the conversations we need to have to make change possible. Systemic racial inequities have been exposed by COVID-19, particularly its disproportionate impacts on communities of color, which are stark and quantifiable. The loss of jobs, and by extension homes, for those with the most tenuous employment, demands that elected leaders act and affected communities are engaged. And we are confronting a less publicly discussed but longstanding challenge. On this episode of Power Station, Karma Cottman explains that domestic violence is on the rise, exacerbated by stay-at-home orders that have sequestered survivors with their abusers. As executive director of the DC Coalition Against Domestic Violence and its national sister organization, UJIMA, Inc, Karma is the voice that policy makers, courts, law enforcement, schools and the media to listen to right now. Karma brings so much to this conversation, from great successes in systems change to an inexhaustible energy and love of her

We know how nonprofits make change. They provide services, teach people how to organize and use those capacities and get legislation passed. Can cultural institutions also make change? In the case of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian, the answer is yes. While the experience of changemaking may be more personal at a museum, the same strategies are needed to be successful. It starts with a mission to amplify the voices of communities that are too often unheard. And it is powered by a governance structure that includes and is accountable to its constituency. In both cases, they meet members/visitors where they are and hope they carry what they learn forward. As NMAI's Paul Chaat Smith explains, the museum  is about deepening awareness, not promoting cultural tourism. A Comanche author, essayist and curator, Paul walks us through Americans, the powerful exhibit he co-curated with Cécile Ganteaume, to explore how Indian imagery is embedded in virtually every area of American life. Listen to

Mile High Connects is a nonprofit collaborative that is leading a movement for transit equity in the Denver Metro region. Sounds pretty straightforward and non-controversial, right? Of course, it isn’t. As data shows, public transit is crucial for connecting working people to jobs and schools, the building blocks for economic opportunity. The challenge in building or expanding a system is in setting priorities. Is it an amenity for high-income residents going to downtown offices or a component of economic recovery, particularly for low-income, Black and Brown residents whose jobs and homes are less accessible? With Deya Zavalas at the helm, Mile High Connects is building the table at which community residents, organizing groups, public agencies and community foundations are coming together to advocate for a more inclusive system. And they are tackling more than transit. Their proposals include policy solutions for the region’s inter-related and highly stressed housing and health systems. Nonprofits are where

One half of all Texans under the age of 18 are Latinos. The future of the state, and increasingly this nation, lies with an immensely diverse population that has been underestimated by mainstream political parties. That paradigm is changing, however, in large part due to Jolt Texas, a nonprofit launched by rising political star Cristina Tzintzun Ramirez after the 2016 election. Jolt is dedicated to inspiring a new generation of Latinos to become civic leaders and political candidates. It holds forums about health, housing and other pivotal issues, trains young people in community organizing, and brings civic engagement messaging to cultural gatherings, including a young women's Quinceañera. Pedro Lira, Jolt’s Civic Engagement Director, has been hooked on politics since high school and is already a veteran of national electoral campaigns. He is passionate about the potential of young Latino voters in Texas to represent their community and generate a more equitable future. And he is patient. While this election

Our high-stakes national election is (almost) over and it is time to breathe and celebrate. For community-based nonprofits, which took root long before this election cycle and are base builders no matter who is in office, this is a moment for reflection. It requires taking stock of how differently our divided nation perceives the state of our union. It also validates their commitment to creating a shared vision for the future. This is the work of Doran Schrantz, executive director of ISAIAH, a multi-racial, state-wide, nonpartisan coalition of congregations and people of faith in Minnesota. Its vision is carried out by its stakeholders, from the Barbershops and Black Congregations Cooperative to Latinx and Muslim faith-based coalitions. And the vision is furthered by Faith in Minnesota, a 501(c)4, which expands ISAIAH’s (501(c)3) vision into the state electoral arena. Collectively, they have created the Greater Than Fear Campaign, to push forward, through messaging and narrative building, a movement centered

In the final days before the most important election of our lifetime, we are consumed by thoughts about what comes next. There is the collective anxiety about defeating Donald Trump and how to achieve a peaceful transition of power. And there is the imperative, even with a new administration, to fully confront the deeply embedded structural racism that has disenfranchised people of color since our beginnings. This work is not for the faint of heart. And it will not be led by pundits, academics or editorial writers. In fact, it is already underway, led by nonprofits that expand on traditional models of service to build power and transform systems. Detroit Action, led by native son Branden Snyder, is one such model. It is active on all fronts: canvassing, organizing, connecting residents to resources and influencing state policy decisions. Detroit Action is leading in the aftermath of decades of disinvestment, redlining and white flight. Their door is always open.    

You may not envision the YWCA as fighting on the frontlines of racial and gender justice, but you should. For 162 years, the YWCA has advocated for women and children who are survivors of domestic and sexual violence. And it has lived its stated values. In 1946, the YWCA became the first fully racially integrated organization in the nation. 50 years ago, it adopted a mission statement as its beacon: Eliminating Racism, Empowering Women. Its network of 200 associations, rooted in cities, suburbs and rural areas across the nation may be the sole resource in a community. Others work with a robust cohort of organizations on the shared challenges of underinvested communities, from a lack of child-care to healthcare and jobs. And, as always, leadership matters. Alejandra Castillo, whose work and life are already an inspiration, leads the YWCA with a passion that not even COVID19, an economic recession and a national reckoning with racial injustice could undermine. Listen and you will believe in Alejandra and her te

Words matter. We rely on them every day to express our thoughts and connect with others. And when our intent is to use our words to move people, in policy and political campaigns, how we construct them to create winning messages, is profoundly important. It obliges us to do more than echo out the urgency we feel based in years of work on issues from housing to immigration to health care, or for a candidate whose election we see as crucial. What resonates for us may have a distinctly different and unintended impact on those we want to influence. This is where Anat Shenker-Osorio comes in, fortified with social science research and significant experience in testing messages. She walks us through what nonprofits and campaigns get wrong and, thankfully, provides guidance about how to do better. It starts with ordering. Leading with a message of shared values enables the persuadable middle to be open to hearing more and to seeing policy solutions as common sense. Anat’s podcast, Words to Win By, explores how sayin

How can a powerful organization deepen its impact? For the National Resources Defense Council, our planet’s protector and champion of clear air and water, it starts with looking inward. At a time of national reckoning with structural inequity, NRDC is reevaluating its own practices through a lens of race, equity and justice. As Angela Manso, National Outreach Director, explains, this is challenging and vital work. Communities of color are harmed at disproportionate rates by contamination, pollution and climate change. And that is why she is forging partnerships within the most deeply impacted communities. These relationships, with groups advocating for better housing, access to health care and against environmental degradation, are key to creating a next-level environmental movement. NRDC’s president, Gina McCarthy, who led the Environmental Protection Administration under President Obama, is committed to building an explicitly anti-racist organization. Angela, also an Obama appointee, is advancing the missio

Thirty days out from the 2020 election, America is grappling with the many hurdles before us to casting our vote and being counted in the most important election of our lifetime. COVID19 has made in-person voting possibly life-threatening and voting by mail is being manipulated by a president who is profoundly threatened by this democratic franchise. For many, however, barriers to voting go far deeper. Millions of returning citizens, Americans who have served time and come home, are now barred from the ballot box. In Florida, Desmond Meade, president of the Florida Rights Restoration Project, is building a movement for the restoration of voting rights. He achieved the near-impossible, organizing statewide support for re-enfranchisement, validated by Amendment 4, a statewide ballot initiative. Desmond leads with empathy and love and rejects partisanship and rancor. Desmond knows that this movement’s wins will be resisted, and this is a tension that he embraces. His story is a testament to second chances and to

If Americans learn any collective lesson in 2020, it should be that until we face our history of marginalizing whole populations, we will not be a true democracy. Social uprisings around the country demonstrate that racism is structural and is seared into our public systems. People with disabilities experience structural inequity also. They have been so vilified that until 1974, so-called “ugly laws” forced those perceived to be “maimed” to be removed from public view. It is moving to learn that the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990, landmark legislation, was modeled after the Civil Rights Act of 1964. The ADA bars discrimination against disabled people in employment, transportation and public accommodations. The current practice of institutionalizing disabled people compelled the Center for Disability Rights to advocate for new legislation, the Disability Integration Act. Dara Baldwin, National Policy Director of CDR is committed to liberating disabled people from institutions into safe environment wit

To see how deep the impacts of COVID19 and racial inequity go, take a look at Flushing, Queens. With a population that is 70% Asian, it is also New York City’s fourth most congested business district. It appeared, pre-pandemic, to be a bustling neighborhood of working people. In reality, incomes for many were so limited they relied on food pantries to feed their families. Many now have no incomes at all. The truth, as John Park, executive director of the MinKwon Center for Community Action explains, contradicts the widely held model minority myth, a construct that has persisted for generations. He points out that Asian Americans have the highest level of poverty within working age populations, of any major ethnic group in New York. And while the impacts of the pandemic have been cataclysmic, there is reason for hope and inspiration. Despite a loss of lives and jobs, the community is engaged and resilient. MinKwon is leading a campaign to overcome a waterfront development plan and young community members are t

It takes more than pundits and politicians to create a more just society. Change happens when those who have been hurt the most stand up to demand justice. And it takes nonprofits with the courage and infrastructure needed to leverage power. This is the formula embodied by Partnership for Southern Equity, an Atlanta-based nonprofit that is building an equity agenda for the American south. As PSE’s founder and Chief Equity Officer Nathaniel Smith sees it, the path to equity is a process, the next step in the civil rights movement that took root in Atlanta through the 50s and 60s. He leads a corps of organizers, researchers and communications experts in taking on the devastating impacts of systemic racism in health, housing, climate, energy and community development. All of PSE’s work is guided by a prism of equity and shared values. It is the heart and intentionality of PSE’s approach in Atlanta that establishes them as a blueprint for the region and beyond. There is much more to come from Nathaniel Smith.    

Did you know that the Lower Ninth Ward had the highest rate of homeownership in New Orleans, pre-Hurricane Katrina? And that the devastation of those homes and displacement of their African American owners was caused by breeches in levees that are still in disrepair 15 years later? Or that tens of thousands of those owners remain displaced from their own city? Unlike most cities grappling with a housing crisis, there are 19,000 vacant units in New Orleans. The fact that landlords have withheld them from the rental market is just one of the factors that compelled dozens of affordable housing developers, homeless and housing advocates, and community residents to create Housing NOLA. Their mission is crystal-clear: to produce a data-based plan for meeting affordable housing needs in New Orleans over a 10-year period. It takes an uncommon leader to publish a yearly report card on such a plan’s progress and failings. Andreanecia Morris is the exceptional leader that Housing NOLA deserves. From her expertise in hou

As we navigate extraordinary challenges, from COVID19 to the implosion of our economy, we can see which of us are truly essential workers. We rely on doctors, nurses, mail carriers and grocery store workers, but do we recognize those whose labor literally sustains us? Farmworkers, working 12-14 hours a day, often in unsafe conditions, harvest the strawberries, blueberries, lettuce and other crops that, if we are fortunate, grace our tables. Many are immigrants who have been targeted by a relentlessly hostile administration. And they are parents who want their children to thrive. As executive director of the National Migrant and Seasonal Head Start Association (NMSHSA), Cleofas Rodriguez is tasked with a responsibility that he embraces. NMSHSA connects families that move 3 times a year to harvest crops to providers of early childhood education. These teachers and administrators are often former farmworkers themselves who understand the needs of the community. As Cleo explains, we need to think about those whos

As the saying goes, when you need something done, ask a busy person. This is the case with Gilda Cobb-Hunter, who represents Orangeburg County in the South Carolina State Legislature. She also directs a nonprofit serving victims of family violence. And she is president of the National Black Caucus of State Legislatures, which creates community among policy makers of color. Now she is advocating for legislation that, if adopted across state legislatures, could transform policing entirely. It is what we need now, in the wake of a social uprising sparked by unbridled police violence against men and women of color. The bill, which is informed by diverse policy partners, including police officers, starts with a framework called Ethical Policing. It codifies standards that set expectations for police departments. And it creates standardized systems for tracking behavior. It ends the shifting of abusers from one precinct to another. And it includes young people, often the target of police violence, in a review proce

Food insecurity is our government’s somewhat clinical term for hunger, or in bureaucratese, a lack of access to the food needed for a full and active life. Hunger is an everyday reality for poor and working families in the nation’s capital and its surrounding suburbs, one of the wealthiest regions in the country. And in the shadows of COVID19 and a staggering loss of jobs and income, hunger is growing exponentially. Imagine what it takes for the Capital Area Food Bank to provide 30 million meals a year to 400,000 women, men and children who are food insecure. And then realize that these figures reflect pre-pandemic times. Radha Muthiah, CAFB’s President and CEO, manages the complexities of supply chains, delivery systems, corporate and nonprofit partners, and her personal connections to the people she serves. But her vision extends beyond the unprecedented challenge of the moment. She is working towards a new normal, which requires collaboration across issue area silos and an insistence on righting the wrongs

Eddy Morales has an amazing story to tell and he wants it to be your call to action. The last of 9 children and the first born in the United States to a single mother from Mexico, he faced hardship first hand. He was influenced by his mother’s fearlessness and compassion, values that guide him now. In college, he made the connection between his childhood and systemic injustices that oppress people of color. In his next chapter, he was recruited to Washington DC to lead the US Student Association, where he mobilized young people to exercise their collective power. And in successive roles at the Center for Community Change, Voto Latino and Democracy Alliance, Eddy honed his skills as a trainer, political organizer and adviser to foundations on investing in Latinx nonprofits. After the crushing election results of 2016, life took another turn when he returned to Gresham, Oregon. That is the chapter you will hear today. It is about the deliberative and rewarding process of building power, from a PAC to a slate of

It should not take a pandemic and an uprising spurred by police violence against Black men and women to generate a national reckoning with racism, but here we are. If we want this moment to spark transformation, we need to crack open the full body of evidence about how non-White people are perceived and treated in America. And we need organizations like the National Asian Pacific American Women’s Forum, that build power in communities made invisible by bias. Jennifer Wang, lawyer, strategist and one of the women at the helm of NAPAWF, is a power-builder. She recounts how stereotypes of privilege overshadow the lived experience of AAPI people, a non-monolithic community of over 50 ethnicities. And she explains why NAPAWF has taken on a singular mission, the reproductive rights of AAPI women and girls. Our conversation is particularly salient in a moment in which discrimination against AAPI women is rampant, from the White House to the streets. Jennifer shares what happened when her boss, Sung Yeon Choimorrow,